He took them into the dining room. Caldenas was in an ecstasy, but Ellen interrupted impatiently. She pushed by the others, passed through the salon again and out into the hall. "It's the bedrooms I want to see." She hurried up the stairs, with a malicious look at Alexis. Olive, clinging to his arm like a sack of potatoes, he followed as swiftly as possible, Gerald and the puzzled Spaniard brought up the rear. Ellen turned into the corridor and stopped before Anne's door. She tried the knob. "It's locked!" she exclaimed, challenging Alexis with her eyes. "I'm sure this must have been Karzimova's room. Do let us in. I'm crazy to see it." Very pale, Alexis disentangled himself from Olive and stepped forward quickly. "I haven't the key." He leaned against the wall to conceal trembling knees. "Karzimova stipulated it should not be used in her absence." "Bluebeard, give us the key! Whom are you concealing in there?" "I think you're mean," broke in Olive. "I want to go in, too. They say she is so wicked, you know. Full of secret vices." She opened empty eyes at the group to inquire plaintively, "What are secret vices?" "There is nothing concealed that shall not be revealed," quoted Gerald sanctimoniously. "You Americans!" laughed Caldenas. "How you love the stolen jam! Is it not so, poor children?" Under cover of the laughter, Gerald drew nearer to Ellen. "Come on, let's go," he whispered. "You can't expect a fellow to unlock his own doors if he doesn't want to. Besides, we've seen enough!" "Very well," Ellen raised her voice. "You're a tightwad, Mr. Petrovskey, but we give in. You may spank us and put us to bed, like the old woman in the shoe if you want to." They trooped back noisily down the hall. Elvira appeared at the other end of the corridor. Her plump figure looked beautiful to Alexis. "The rooms are ready, Monsieur." He sighed with relief. Leading them down another hallway, he entered a distant wing. "Here you are. Good-night, I hope you'll be comfortable!" He struggled to conceal his delight. They parted from him with effusion. Much later, a solitary figure in a wine-colored dressing gown crept up the stairs and stopped in front of Anne's door. It scratched at the panel delicately, but received no response. Wintry dawn, gray, disconsolate, filtered in at Alexis' window. The dressing gown still about him, he lay face downward upon his solitary bed. CHAPTER XIX A CRESCENDO Anne stirred uneasily. One slim, bare arm emerged from beneath the satin coverlet and wavered towards her face. The depths of her exhausted sleep, suddenly violated, rippled and broke. Returning consciousness beat against her like a gusty wave. She sat up in bed and looked towards the open window in puzzled astonishment. To her amazement, it was already daylight, and the raucous cry of a motor siren was shrilling stridently.