"It _is_! Come in--entrez--yes!" Etienne appeared. "A letter for monsieur!" Kent snatched it from his hand; it was from Turquand. He tore it open. Postal orders for six pounds dazzled their eyes. In pencil was scribbled: "Here you are, sonny!--Yours ever, TURK." Cynthia gave a hysterical laugh. They were say. Ten minutes later, after she had blessed Turquand and her eyes were dried, she opened the door or the adjoining room with great dignity, and said: "By the way, Nurse, I had better give you your money now. You can change enough postal orders for your ticket, you know, opposite the station." Then she came back radiant. And Kent said salvation must be celebrated and, as their cab next day wouldn't cost ten shillings, they would go out on the Boulevard and drink Turquand's health--and buy some tobacco on the way. Compared with what their state of mind had been, they were supremely contented now that the danger of their servant witnessing their disgrace was over; and in the morning, when they had bidden her good-bye, and watched her drive away, and their misfortunes were nobody's business but their own, they drew a breath of veritable thanksgiving. Cynthia's trunks, and Humphrey's, and his hat-box, and the dressing-case that somebody had given to the girl as a wedding-present, were drawn together in a corner of the room to be left behind; and, with intermittent attentions to the baby, they stored their toilet articles, and all the linen that it would hold, in the hand-bag that was to be taken with them. The bassinet was already shut up and sewn in its canvas wrapper; and the blankets, and such of the child's clothing as would not go in its box, had been packed downstairs in the perambulator. There was nothing further to do but to put the oatmeal, and the saucepan, and a few other infantile necessaries, in a basket. Leaving Cynthia to collect these, Kent hurried out to obtain accommodation at an hotel. He went first to the one where they had stayed on their arrival--it was close at hand. But all the communicating rooms were occupied, and he was forced to try somewhere else. Jordan, who had done "Turf Topics" for _The World and his Wife_, had once mentioned to him a place in the rue de Constantinople as being cheap and comfortable, and he bent his steps there impatiently, regretting that they had not made their arrangements earlier. The mother had intended to see to the matter, in order to be sure that everything, was suitable, and that there wasn't a draught from the window, and the rest of it, but, being so much worried, she had put it off.