h a supreme effort
calling upon her mighty brain she surmised that her husband was possibly
passing under a pseudonym in order to throw America off the scent. She,
therefore, demanded to have the guests then present in the hotel at once
paraded before her. As there was some difficulty about this--the guests
being then at dinner--she whispered for the visitors' book, thinking
that, perchance, Mr. Greyne had inscribed his name there, and that the
staff, being foreign, did not recognise it as murmured by herself. The
book was brought, upon its cover in golden letters the words: "Hotel
Loubet et Majestic." Then explanations of a somewhat disagreeable nature
occurred, and Mrs. Greyne and Mrs. Forbes, after a heavy payment had
been exacted for their conveyance to a place they had desired not to
go to, were carried forth, and consigned to another vehicle, which at
length brought them, on the stroke of nine, to the Grand Hotel.

Having been placed reverently in the brilliantly-lighted hall, they were
surrounded by the proprietor, the _maitre d'hotel_ and his assistants,
the porters, and the chasseurs, with all of whom Mr. Greyne was
now familiar. Brandy and water having been supplied, together with
smelling-salts and burnt feathers, Mrs. Greyne roused herself from an
acute attack of lethargy, and asked for Mr. Greyne. A joyous smile ran
round the circle.

"Monsieur Greyne," said the proprietor, "who is living here for the
winter?" 4

"Mr. Eustace Greyne," murmured the great novelist, grasping her bonnet
with both hands.

The _maitre d'hotel_ drew nearer.

"Madame wishes to see Monsieur Greyne?" he asked.

"I do--at once."

A blessed consciousness of Mother Earth was gradually beginning to steal
over her. She even strove feebly to sit up on her chair, a German-Swiss
porter of enormous size assisting her.

"But Monsieur Greyne is out."

"Out?"

"Yes, madame. Monsieur Greyne is always out at night."

The eyes of the little chasseur who knew no better began to twinkle.
Mrs. Forbes gave a slight cough. Tears filled the novelist's eyes.

"God bless my Eustace!" she murmured, deeply touched by this evidence of
his devotion to her interests.

"Madame says----" asked the proprietor.

"Where does Mr. Greyne go?" inquired the novelist.

"To the Kasbah, madame."

"I knew it!" cried Mrs. Greyne, with returning animation. "I knew it
would be so!"

"Madame is acquainted with Monsieur Greyne?" said the _maitre d'hotel_,