"I don't understand how that can be. How did I get here?"

"I brought you. I was pretty bad, but you--I never saw anything like
you! From the time you kissed Lady Mount-Rhyswicke--"

Mellin sat bolt upright in bed, staring wildly. He began to tremble
violently.

"Don't you remember that?" asked Cooley.

Suddenly he did. The memory of it came with inexorable clarity, he
crossed forearms over his horror-stricken face and fell back upon his
pillow.

"Oh," he gasped. "Un-speakable! Un-speakable!"

"Lord! Don't worry about that! I don't think she minded."

"It's the thought of Madame de Vaurigard--it kills me! The horror of
it--that I should do such a thing in her house! She'll never speak to
me again, she oughtn't to; she ought to send her groom to beat me! You
can't think what I've lost--"

"Can't I!" Mr. Cooley rose from his chair and began to pace up and down
the chamber. "I can guess to within a thousand francs of what _I_'ve
lost! I had to get the hotel to cash a check on New York for me this
morning. I've a habit of carrying all my money in bills, and a fool
trick, too. Well, I'm cured of it!"