I know no more."
It was enough.
"He's mistaken," I said shortly. For the moment I really thought that
this must be the case.
Her broad, good-natured face was all astonishment.
"But, Monsieur," she burst forth, "he even told me, this gentleman, that
such might be monsieur's reply! And in that event he commanded me to beg
monsieur to walk upstairs, since he had a thing of importance to reveal
to monsieur--one best said behind closed doors!"
I stared at her, my head humming like a top. Then, scrutinizingly,
I looked about the court. The light in Miss Falconer's room had been
extinguished. Did that have some significance? Was she lying perdue
because these people had come? In the rooms opening from the west
gallery above the street entrance I could see moving shadows. The gray
car had arrived, and it bore three officers of France for passengers.
What could this mean?
Of course, whoever had left the message had mistaken me for a
confederate. I could not know any of the new arrivals; it was equally
impossible that they could know me. None the less, with a slight,
unaccustomed thrill of excitement, I resolved to accept the invitation
as if in absolute good faith.
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