The first to arrive was Marie, then followed another _femme de chambre_, then came the night porter, then the boot-collector, last, with eyes opened wide at the surprising spectacle of a beautiful young woman receiving her lover at the point of a pistol, appeared _monsieur le patron_ himself. They clustered in a group by the door. "I think," said Madame serenely, "that we have enough. Marie, the house is full; shut the door and lock it." The order was obeyed. "Now," went on the commanding voice from the bed, using French for the effective shutting out of the English boot-cleaner and night porter, "if you men will turn your backs, and Marie will hand me my dressing-gown, I will prepare myself for the examination of Monsieur le Capitaine Rouille. It is not seemly that a court of inquiry should be conducted in a nightdress." The men turned round, or were pushed round. Marie--gasping with wonder at the whole incredible business, so unlike that which she had suggested--brought the silk dressing-gown and robed Madame, who skipped out of bed for the purpose. Then the fair _juge d'instruction,_ wrapped to the neck in blue silk, and looking prettier than ever, propped herself upon the pillows and opened the court. "Captain Rouille," ordered she in French, "please tell these others why you came to my bedroom." I regret to record that Marie and the other girl looked towards one another and sniggered. The patron lifted up his hands in amazement. _Mon Dieu_, what a question! The two English servants did not understand French. Rust said nothing. Madame, who had observed the excusable misunderstanding of her French audience, condescended to explain. "I am sure," she said, "that Captain Rouille will not suggest that his visit was designed to attack my honour." "_Quelle dame extraordinaire_!" moaned the patron. "_C'est incroyable la sangfroid de celle-là."_ "Of course not," cried Rust, speaking for the first time. "Never would I have dared to think of such a thing. Madame Gilbert is a lady of the highest virtue. It was not to compromise her that I entered her room." "The man," groaned the patron, "is no less extraordinary than the woman. Why in God's name this pistol, this scene so public! They are lovers, beyond doubt, yet they spring upon my hotel this scene of the most scandalous. It is not the way of France; I do not understand such goings on." Madame drew a paper from her bed, and held it up. "Was it for this that you came?" "Yes," said Rust, "for that and that only." "_Un billet doux_" said the patron, playing without design the part of a bewildered chorus, "Why should not madame have given it to him if she wished to write that which she was too modest to say?" "Why did you want it?"