He kissed her hand when he left, and afterwards, when she was alone, she kissed the spot his lips had touched again and again. Now, thinking the matter out in the calmness of solitude, all seemed strange, unreal, uncertain to her. Were conspiracies actually possible nowadays? Did queer things actually happen in Europe? And did they actually happen in London hotels? She dined with her father that night. ‘I hear Prince Aribert has left,’ said Theodore Racksole. ‘Yes,’ she assented. She said not a word about their interview. Chapter Eight ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS ON the following morning, just before lunch, a lady, accompanied by a maid and a considerable quantity of luggage, came to the Grand Babylon Hôtel. She was a plump, little old lady, with white hair and an old- fashioned bonnet, and she had a quaint, simple smile of surprise at everything in general. Nevertheless, she gave the impression of belonging to some aristocracy, though not the English aristocracy. Her tone to her maid, whom she addressed in broken English--the girl being apparently English--was distinctly insolent, with the calm, unconscious insolence peculiar to a certain type of Continental nobility. The name on the lady’s card ran thus: ‘Baroness Zerlinski’. She desired rooms on the third floor. It happened that Nella was in the bureau. ‘On the third floor, madam?’ questioned Nella, in her best clerkly manner. ‘I did say on de tird floor,’ said the plump little old lady. ‘We have accommodation on the second floor.’ ‘I wish to be high up, out of de dust and in de light,’ explained the Baroness. ‘We have no suites on the third floor, madam.’ ‘Never mind, no mattaire! Have you not two rooms that communicate?’ Nella consulted her books, rather awkwardly. ‘Numbers 122 and 123 communicate.’ ‘Or is it 121 and 122?’ the little old lady remarked quickly, and then bit her lip. ‘I beg your pardon. I should have said 121 and 122.’