"Exactly. Madame Colombier's in the Avenue de Neuilly."
Tuppence knew the name well. Nothing could have been more select. She had had several American friends there. She was more than ever puzzled.
"You want me to go to Madame Colombier's? For how long?"
"That depends. Possibly three months."
"And that is all? There are no other conditions?"
"None whatever. You would, of course, go in the character of my ward, and you would hold no communication with your friends. I should have to request absolute secrecy for the time being. By the way, you are English, are you not?"
"Yes."
"Yet you speak with a slight American accent?"
"My great pal in hospital was a little American girl. I dare say I picked it up from her. I can soon get out of it again."
"On the contrary, it might be simpler for you to pass as an American. Details about your past life in England might be more difficult to sustain. Yes, I think that would be decidedly better. Then"
"One moment, Mr. Whittington! You seem to be taking my consent for granted."
Whittington looked surprised.
"Surely you are not thinking of refusing? I can assure you that Madame Colombier's is a most high-class and orthodox establishment. And the terms are most liberal."
