Jules came in with the drinks and passed them around. The ice in the tall glasses clinked invitingly. "To our host," said the Spaniard, returning from a tour about the room. He held up his cognac and bowed ceremoniously. "And his invisible guest," muttered Gerald, gulping down his whisky. Alexis did not drink. Anne loathed a whisky-laden breath. He sat down at the piano and allowed his fingers to wander over the keys. "Oh, do play, Mr. Petrovskey. I'm just crazy to hear you!" The fluffy one pirouetted up to the piano. Jules reëntered the room, accompanied by Ellen's chauffeur. She beckoned him across the room. "What's the matter, George? Can't you fix the car?" "No ma'am, I can't. The key to the wheel is lost, and there ain't a garage open anywheres. I've been all over the country with Mr. what's his name's chauffeur." Ellen's eyes were glued expectantly upon Alexis. "What shall we do?" she wailed. He looked at her and then at the others, with an amused expression. Their air of open-mouthed expectancy was ludicrous, and reminded him of a lot of goldfish waiting to be fed. "I'm afraid you will have to resign yourselves to spending the night," he said suavely. "I can easily put you up." (Far more easily than I can put up with you). "How delightful of you. It will be quite an adventure." Ellen rolled her eyes. "I'm simply crazy about the idea. You know, I've fallen dreadfully in love with you, Mr. Petrovskey." Olive laid her hand upon the keyboard, ingratiatingly. He shook it off lightly and rose from the piano. "I'm sure you're all worn out," he said, longing to be rid of the pack of them. "I'll go and see about your rooms at once." "Quite the châtelain," drawled Gerald, throwing himself down beside Ellen. He lowered his voice suddenly. "Well, you lost! She is not here!" A sluggish gleam of triumph flickered in his eyes. Ellen laughed. "Don't you fool yourself. Everything points to it. From the condition of Petrovskey's hair when we arrived, to the jewel case. Besides, I smell her perfume." She sniffed audibly. "It's the mixture Bazani put up for her, himself. Very faint, but gets there, my boy." He laughed disagreeably. "So do you, Ellen. You make me feel like Dr. Watson. You win the gold needled hypodermic." "What are you sniffling about? Have you, too, caught cold?" Olive sat down on the sofa opposite. "Isn't it too exciting to be laid up here all night? I just adore Petrovskey! He is so cold and wonderful-looking, so distingay!" "Almost as 'aughty as an English butler," snarled Gerald, his eyes upon the other end of the room, where Caldenas was examining a portrait with the aid of a small magnifying glass. Alexis returned. "Your rooms are ready." His eyes darted from one face to the other. "Would you like to go to bed?" Ellen rose with a yawn, her hand clapped against her mouth rhythmically. "Do show us the house first." "Yes, please." Olive's fingers closed upon his arm. "Lead me to it," she screamed.