However, when Marianne came flying in, in answer to my long peal of the
electric bell, she said that no one had been. There were letters and one
telegram, and all the morning papers, as usual after the first night of
a new play.
My heart gave a spring at the news that there was a telegram, for I
thought it might be from Ivor, saying he was on the track of the treaty,
even if he hadn't yet got hold of it. But the message was from Raoul;
and he had not found the brocade bag. He did not put this in so many
words, but said, "I have not found what was lost, or learned anything of
it."
From Ivor there was not a line, and I thought this cruel. He might have
wired, or written me a note, even if there were nothing definite to say.
He might, unless--something had happened to him. There was that to think
of; and I did think of it, with dread, and a growing presentiment that I
had not suffered yet all I was to suffer. I determined to send a servant
to the Elysee Palace Hotel to enquire for him, and despatched Henri
immediately. Meanwhile, as there was nothing to do, after pretending to
eat breakfast under the watchful eyes of Marianne, I pretended also to
read the newspaper notices of the play.
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