Often she looked behind her through the glass doors into the
street. When at last he reappeared alone her disappointment was obvious.
"Sir George Duncombe is out, Mademoiselle," he announced. "Will you be
pleased to leave a message, or your name?"
"You do not know how long he will be?" she inquired.
"Sir George left no word," the man answered. "He has been out since
before _dejeuner_."
Mademoiselle decided to leave a note. The porter supplied her with
notepaper and envelopes. She sat down at a small round table, and once
more glanced furtively around. Convinced that she was not being watched,
she hastily wrote a few lines, sealed and addressed the envelope, and
handed it to the porter.
"You will give this to Sir George immediately he returns," she begged.
"It is important."
"Monsieur shall have it without doubt, Mademoiselle," the man answered.
She pulled down her veil and left the place hurriedly. When she reached
the boulevard she slackened her pace, and drew a little breath of
relief.
"Ten thousand francs!" she murmured to herself. "If I took that with me
they would receive me at home. I might start all over again.
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