"
"To-night it will make you sleep. What do you say to a glass of Clos
Vosgeot?"
"Is that a claret?"
"Yes."
"Well, as it happens, that is the one wine I take."
The dinner proceeded most pleasantly. To his own astonishment, Curtis
worked up sufficient appetite to enjoy the meal, though he would have
stuffed himself remorselessly to save his charming _vis-a-vis_ from the
slightest embarrassment. But he only sipped the wine, for a sixth
sense warned him that he must keep a clear head that night.
By inference rather than plain statement, for a deft waiter was
constantly coming in and out, he supplied Hermione with glimpses of his
own career, and ascertained from her that she had secured Marcelle's
services through the good offices of a lady who was a fellow-passenger
on the ship.
"She comes from New Orleans, but, notwithstanding her name, she does
not speak French," said Hermione. "I think that rather accounts
for----"
She stopped, and Curtis did not press for an explanation, but she
continued, after a second's pause:
"Marcelle did not like Monsieur de Courtois. I imagined she was
annoyed because he always conversed with me in a language she did not
understand."
"Then I shall avoid Chinese," he laughed.
"Marcelle----"
Again she hesitated.
Pages:
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
107
108
109
110
111
112
113