As she writhed and sighed helplessly on a sofa in sight of the mantel clock, Céline's familiar tap sounded at the door, and the Frenchwoman came in. Mrs. Sorel's anguished eyes saw that she looked pale and excited. Her own heart seemed to rise and shrug itself in her breast, then collapse sickeningly upon other organs. "For Heaven's sake, where is Mademoiselle?" she panted. "Ah, Madame," sighed Céline, "we must speak of Mademoiselle no more." "Why--why?" broke in the distracted mother. "But, because she is now indeed 'Madame'! She is with--her _husband_." "Where?" gasped Mrs. Sorel. "In their suite. A suite of great magnificence." The unhappy Mums staggered to her feet, among falling cushions. "Good gracious!" she groaned. "He has dragged her there----" "No, no, Madame, it is not so bad as that," Céline soothed her. "_Madame la Jeune Mariée_ appeared to go with Monsieur of her own will. She showed no fear. She was only a little quiet--a little strange. It must have been arranged at the theatre, what was to happen, for I was with them in a car--but yes, a car, no taxi!--which Monsieur had ordered to wait at the stage door. I sat, not with the chauffeur, but inside on one of the little fold-up seats. The two did not speak at all, Madame, not once, till we had arrived here, at the hotel. Then Mademoiselle--I mean Madame Garth--said, 'I should like Céline to come with me.' 'Very well, let her come,' Monsieur answered. That was all. I went with them. Monsieur asked for his key. It was given him. We were taken up in the _ascenseur_ to this floor. But instead of turning to the right, we turned left. Monsieur unlocked the door, switched on lights, and stood aside for Madame his wife to pass. Even me, he let go in before him. Then he followed and shut the door." "What then?" breathed Mrs. Sorel. "Mon Dieu, Madame, the suite was of a magnificence! It must be the best in the house. The suite in which they put royalties who come visiting from Europe. And not only that, the whole place has been made a garden of flowers--wonderful flowers. This Monsieur le Majeur must be, after all, though he does not look it, a millionaire!" "He is far from being a millionaire," sneered Mums. "He hasn't a sou, so far as I've heard. He'll probably charge all this wild extravagance to us. He's capable of it--capable of _anything_! But go on."