guessing at the numbers of the rooms, to arrive at the conviction that
"Mme. Zalenska and suite" might be what he was searching
for. Zalenska--she was possibly Russian after all. And what was her
christian name? That he longed to know.

As he stood staring, his fair forehead puckered into a frown of
thought, the silver-haired servant came up behind him and said, with
his respectful, dignified bearing:

"_De la part de Madame_," handing Paul a letter the while.

What could it contain?

But this was not the moment for speculation--he would read and see.

He turned his back on the servant, and walked towards the light, while
he tore open the envelope. It had the most minute sphinx in the
corner, and the paper was un-English, and rather thin.

This was what he read:

"_Morning_.

"Paul, I am young to-day, and we must see the blue lake and the green
trees. Come to the landing towards the station, and I will call for
you in my launch. And you shall be young, too, Paul--and teach me!
Give Dmitry the answer."

"The answer is, 'Yes, immediately'--tell Madame," Paul said.