Back again in New York, I went immediately in search of them. I was so difficult to satisfy that it was some time before I selected a suite overlooking the Park, which seemed to me to answer all demands. May and her mother were not expected till the following afternoon, so I tried to kill the intervening time by making the place look homelike, and I succeeded, I think. Masses of flowers and palms filled every nook, and the newest magazines and books lay on the tables. I met the ladies at the station, where they parted from Norman, whom I had begun to regard as inevitable. It was, therefore, with a feeling of exultation that I drove alone with them to their hotel. When May saw the bower I had prepared for her she seemed really pleased, and thanked me very prettily. I left them, after a few minutes, but not until they had promised to dine with me at a restaurant that evening. CHAPTER XV A SUDDEN FLIGHT One of the many things and people which I am sorry to say my new occupation as Squire of Dames had caused me to neglect, was poor Madame Argot. On leaving the Derwents, I determined to call on her at once. To my surprise, I found Mrs. Atkins there before me. The poor Frenchwoman was crying bitterly. "Look here!" I said, after we had exchanged greetings; "this will never do. My patient must not be allowed to excite herself in this way." "Ah, mais monsieur," she cried, "what vill you? I mus' veep; zink only; vone veek ago an' I 'appy voman; now all gone. My 'usban', 'e mad, and zey zay 'e murderer too, but I zay, No, no." Mrs. Atkins patted her hand gently. "Monsieur Stuah, 'e tell me to go," she continued, "an' I don' know vere; me not speak English vera good, an' I mus' go alone vid peoples zat speak no French. Ah, I am a miserable, lonely woman," she sobbed. Mrs. Atkins consoled her as best she could, and promised to get her a congenial place. It was a pretty sight to see the dashing little woman in that humble bed-room, and I had never admired her so much. When she got up to leave, I rose also, and, not wishing to pass through Mr. Stuart's apartments, we left the building by the back way. When we were in the street, Mrs. Atkins started to walk up town. "Are you going for a walk?" I asked. "Yes; it is much cooler to-day, and I really must get a little exercise." "Do you mind my joining you?" I inquired. "I'd be glad of your company," she answered, cordially. "It's terribly sad about that poor woman, isn't it?" she said, as we sauntered along. "It is, indeed," I replied; "and the hospital authorities give no hope of her husband's recovery." "I suppose there is no doubt that he killed the man?" Here we were again on this dangerous topic, and I glanced quickly at her, fearing a repetition of last night's attack. She noticed my hesitation, and laughed. "Oh, you needn't be so afraid of what you say. I ain't going to faint again. I want to know the truth, though, and I can't see why you shouldn't tell me."