"I know that."

"Miss Bellairs wants to go straight through to England without stopping anywhere."

"She'll have to want, I expect."

"And I've promised to try and get the General to do what she wants."

"Have you though?"

"I suppose, Roger, old fellow--you know you've great influence with him--I suppose it's no use asking you to say a word to him?"

"Not a bit."

"Why?"

"Because Maud particularly wants him to stay with us in Paris."

"Oh, of course, if Lady Deane wishes it, I mustn't say a word. She's quite made up her mind about it, has she?"

"Well, I suppose so."

"She's strong on it, I mean? Not likely to change?"

"I think not, Charlie."

"She'd ask him to stay, as a favor to her?"

"I shouldn't at all wonder."

"Oh, well then, my asking him won't make much difference."

"Frankly, I don't see why it should."

"Thanks. I only wanted to know. You're not in a hurry, Roger? I mean, you won't ask your wife to go straight on?"

"No, I shan't, Charlie. I want to stop myself."

"Thanks, old chap! See you at dinner," and Charlie strolled off with a rea.s.sured air.

Sir Roger sat and thought.

"I see his game," he said to himself at last, "but I'm hanged if I see hers. Why does she want to get back to England? Perhaps if I delay her as much as I can, she'll tell me. Hanged if I don't! Anyhow I'm glad to see old Charlie getting convalescent."

The next morning the whole party left Cannes by the early train. The Bellairs, the Deanes, and Charlie Ellerton travelled together. Laing announced his intention of following by the afternoon train.

"Oh," said Lady Deane, "you'll get to Paris sooner than we do." Dora looked gloomy; so did Charlie, after a momentary, hastily smothered smile.

The porter approached and asked for an address. They told him the Grand Hotel, Paris.

"If anything comes to-day, I'll bring it on," said Laing.

"Yes, do; we shall have no address before Paris," answered General Bellairs.

They drove off, and Laing, feeling rather solitary, returned to his cigar. An hour later the waiter brought him two telegrams, one for Dora and one for Charlie, he looked at the addresses.

"Just too late, by Jove! All right, garcon, I'll take 'em," and he thrust them into the pocket of his flannel jacket. And when, after lunch, he could not stand the dullness any longer and went to Monte Carlo, he left the telegrams in the discarded flannels, where they lay till--the time when they were discovered. For Mr. Laing clean forgot all about them!

CHAPTER VI

A MAN WITH A THEORY

Even Miss Bussey was inclined to think that all had happened for the best. John's eloquence had shaken her first disapprobation; the visible happiness of the persons chiefly concerned pleaded yet more persuasively. What harm, after all, was done, except for a little trouble and a little gossip? To these Mary and John were utterly indifferent. At first they had been rather shy in referring, before one another, to their loves, but custom taught them to mention the names without confusion, and ere long they had exchanged confidences as to their future plans. John's arrangement was obviously the more prudent and becoming. He discountenanced Mary's suggestion of an unannounced descent on Cannes, and persuaded her to follow his example and inform her lover that she would await news from him in Paris. They were to put up at the European, and telegrams there from Cannes would rind them on and after April 28th. All this valuable information was contained in the dispatches, which lay, with their priceless messages, on the said April 28th, in Mr. Arthur Laing's flannel jacket, inside his portmanteau, on the way to Paris.

Paris claims to be the centre of the world, and if it be, the world has a very good centre. Anyhow Paris becomes, from this moment, the centre of this drama. Not only was Arthur Laing being whirled there by the Nice express, and Miss Bussey's party proceeding thither by the eleven o'clock train from Victoria--Mary laughed as she thought it might have been her honeymoon she was starting on--but the Bellairs and their friends were heading for the same point. Miss Bussey's party had the pleasanter journey; they were all of one mind; Miss Bussey was eager to reach Paris because it was the end of the journey; John and Mary desired nothing but the moment when with trembling fingers they should tear open their telegrams in the hall of the hotel. The expedition from the south did not enjoy a like unanimity; but before following their steps we may, in the interest of simplicity, land the first detachment safely at its destination.

When Mary and John, followed by Miss Bussey--they outstripped her in their eagerness--entered the hotel, a young man with an eye-gla.s.s was just engaging a bedroom. John took his place beside the stranger, and asked in a voice, which he strove to render calm, if there were any letters for----.

"Beg pardon, sir. In one moment," said the clerk, and he added to Laing, "Number 37, sir." Laing--Oh, the irony of things!--turned on John and his companion just that one supercilious glance which we bestow on other tourists, and followed his baggage upstairs.

"Anything," resumed John, "for Miss Travers or Mr. Ashforth?" And he succeeded in looking as if he did not care a straw whether there were or not.

After a search the porter answered, "Nothing, sir."

"What?" exclaimed John, aghast? "Oh, nonsense, look again."

Another search followed; it was without result.

John saw Mary's appealing eyes fixed on him.

"Nothing," he said tragically.

"Oh, John!"

"Have you taken the rooms, Mr. Ash forth?" inquired Miss Bussey.

"No. I'm sorry. I forgot all about them."

Miss Bussey was tired; she had been seasick, and the train always made her feel queer.

"Has neither of you got an ounce of wits about you?" she demanded, and plunged forward to the desk. John and Mary received their numbers in gloomy silence, and mounted the stairs.

Now Arthur Laing in his hasty survey of the party had arrived at a not unnatural but wholly erroneous conclusion. He had seen a young man, rather nervous, a young woman, looking anxious and shy, and an elderly person, plainly dressed (Miss Bussey was no dandy) sitting (Miss Bussey always sat as soon as she could) on, a trunk. He took John and Mary for a newly married couple, and Miss Bussey for an old family servant detailed to look after her young mistress's entry into independent housekeeping.

"More infernal honeymooners," he said to himself, as he washed his hands. "The place is always full of 'em. Girl wasn't bad-looking, though."

The next morning, unhappily, confirmed him in his mistake. For Miss Bussey, overcome by the various trials of the day before, kept her bed, and when Laing came down, the first sight which met his eyes was a breakfast-table, whereat Mary and John sat tete-a-tete. He eyed them with that mixture of scorn and envy which their supposed situation awakens in a bachelor's heart, and took a place from which he could survey them at leisure. There is a bright side to everything; and that of Laing's mistake was the pleasure he derived from his delusion.