They separated at once. A few minutes later Lavendale descended from the balcony and stood just out of sight upon the stairs which led into the entrance hall. The little place was full of the hubbub of cheerful laughter. On one side, however, Félanie and Lenwade were talking earnestly. Félanie had turned suddenly round to Anders, who had just arrived. 'Mr. Lenwade is going to drive me home,' she announced. 'Au revoir, all you good people!' There was much handshaking. 'Vive la France, madame,' a young Englishman exclaimed fervently, as he bent over Félanie's fingers, 'and may you, too, live for ever!' 'If one would paint France, madame,' a painter murmured, 'I would choose you for the emblematic figure.' There were more compliments, another little burst of patriotic fervour. Some one even struck up a few bars of the 'Marseillaise' as Félanie and her escort disappeared. Lavendale descended the last few stairs and elbowed his way good-humouredly through the group. He took Suzanne by the arm. 'Well?' he whispered, as he led her towards the doorway. 'I am not sure,' she answered under her breath, 'but I think they went to his rooms--number 25 Half Moon Street.' Lavendale's car was a few minutes delayed. He gave the man the address almost in a whisper. Behind, pushing his way out on to the pavement, was Anders. He watched Lavendale drive off with a slightly disturbed air. 'What are you going to do?' Suzanne asked. 'Make a fool of myself, very likely,' Lavendale replied. 'I am just working out a theory, that's all. She is going back to his rooms. Anders remains behind, content, and all the world knows that Anders, whether he is her husband or not, is in love with her and furiously jealous. You see, there must be a reason for her little expedition. She is hoping to fetch something.' 'Where are we going?' 'To his rooms,' Lavendale explained. 'Oh! don't look startled, dear. I shall have a very good explanation to offer to Lenwade, even if I break in upon the most ordinary amour.' They were in Half Moon Street within a few minutes. Just as Lavendale's car slackened speed, Félanie issued from the door of number 25, and, looking neither to the right nor to the left, sprang into a waiting taxicab and drove off. Lavendale leaped out on to the pavement. 'Follow her, Suzanne,' he directed. 'I hope to God she's going straight home! If not, you must find out where she does go. I'll come in a taxi. I must see Lenwade first.' He whispered a direction to the chauffeur, passed through the door of number 25, rang for an automatic lift and ascended to the second storey. Leaning over the banisters, as the lift stopped, was Lenwade. He gazed at his visitor in amazement. 'What the mischief are you doing here, old fellow?' he asked thickly. 'Whom are you looking for?' Lavendale retorted. 'Madame Félanie,' the other confessed. 'She has gone down to fetch her vanity case from the cab. Can't think why she doesn't come back.'