Beaujolais, and walked straight back from the restaurant to my lodgings, where I asked Madame Jupille for pen, ink, and paper, and sat down to advertise Mr. Romaine that, for good or ill, he might expect me in London within twenty-four hours of the receipt of this letter.
I had scarce composed the first sentence when there came a knock at the door, and Madame Jupille announced that two gentlemen desired to see me. "Show them up," said I, laying down my pen with a leaping heart; and in the doorway a moment later stood—my cousin Alain.
He was alone. He glanced with a grin of comprehension from me to the letter, advanced, set his hat on the table beside it, and his gloves (after blowing into them) beside his hat.
"My cousin," said he, "you show astonishing agility from time to time; but on the whole you are damned easy to hunt."
I had risen. "I take it you have passing business to speak of, since amid your latest political occupations you have been at pains to seek me out. If so, I will ask you to be brief."
"No pains at all," he corrected, affably. "I have known all the time that you were here. In fact, I expected you some while before you arrived, and sent my man, Paul, with a message."
"A message?"
"Certainly—touching a letter from la belle Flora. You received it? The message, I mean."
"Then it was not"
"No, decidedly it was not Mr. Romaine, to whom"—with another glance at the letter—"I perceive you are only writing for explanations. And since you are preparing to ask how on earth I traced you to this rather unsavoury den, permit me to inform you that 'a b' spells 'ab,' and that
