ne?"

"No, she's going on Saturday. Sickening, isn't it?"

"I don't think she'll stay long," Micky said soothingly. "It won't do
her any harm to see how she likes it. Well, good-bye."

He stood for a moment after he had hung up the receiver, staring at
it. He wished he had not arranged to go to Paris. Supposing Ashton
took it into his head to come back while he was away? Supposing he
went home and found Esther there?

He tried to believe that it was not at all likely, but at the last
moment, as he got into the train and received his ticket from the
solemn Driver, Micky said--

"You know where to find me if anything happens--if anything should be
the matter?"

"Yes, sir." Driver raised wooden eyes to his master's face. "Was you
expecting anything to happen, sir?" he asked stolidly.

Micky got red. "No, you fool!"

"Very good, sir," Driver retorted unmoved.

And so Micky went to Paris. It was dark when he got there, and he
drove at once to a small and unpretentious hotel in a narrow side
street, where he had never been before, but of which he had heard from
Philips.

After all, it was only for a few nights. He did not want to stay in
Paris long--Paris always bored him, but he made a little grimace as
he looked up at the windows of the hotel. It certainly was a
rotten-looking little show, he thought as he followed the concierge
into the hall. This, too, was small and unpretentious, with a
polished floor and wicker chairs scattered about. There was a kind of
winter garden leading from the lounge, where a few neglected palms
and ferns were struggling for an existence, and the whole place was
silent, almost deserted.

Micky was too late for dinner, but a smiling host, with a short dark
beard, assured him that he could have a most excellent supper in less
time than he would enumerate of what that supper would consist. Micky
said he didn't care what it was. He followed his suit-case up the
wide, shallow stairs to a quaint little room with a low ceiling and
polished floor.

He was beginning to feel more at home after all; one could be quiet
here and not be eternally running up against people whom one knew; he
felt more cheerful when he went down to his supper.

He asked the waiter if there were many people staying there. His tone
of voice sounded as if he sincerely hoped there were not, and the
waiter tactfully submitted that the place was almost empty.

Micky proceeded with his supper.

It was nearly ten o'