They went to the end of the corridor accordingly; but no one
was to be seen, except the man who had just left M. Linders'
apartment walking briskly across the moonlight space below,
the great doors of the _porte-cochère_ closing after him with a
clang that resounded through the silent courtyard. Graham had
nothing further to say in the way of consolation; he could
think of no more possible contingencies to suggest, and,
indeed, it was useless to go on reasoning concerning perfectly
unknown conditions. Madelon, however, seemed a little
reassured by his confident tone, and he changed the subject by
asking her whether the gentleman who had just left was a
friend of hers.

"Who? Monsieur Legros?" Madelon answered. "No, I don't know
him much, and I do not like him at all; he comes sometimes to
play with papa."

"To play with him?"

"Yes, at cards, you know--at _écarté_, or _piquet_, or one of those
games."

"And it was with him that your father had an appointment?"

"Yes," said Madelon; "he came last night, and papa told him to
be here again this evening at ten, and that is why I cannot
think why he does not come."

She turned again disconsolately to the window, and there was