“I’m not going to tell you what I felt; I’m not good at it. I’ll tell you what I did, and you can draw your own conclusions. I was quit of Valdez for a bit; I spent all the next day on my feet, prowling about the town, looking for her; because, after all, she must be somewhere in the place. And I knew that she had a job. So I reckoned the likeliest chance to happen on her in the streets was during the _déjeuner_ hour. So I didn’t lunch, but prowled round all that hour. My next best chance would be the going home hour; you see that?”
“The business mind applied to gallantry is wonderful,” I replied. “Now a mere poet would have lain on the sofa and dreamt of Donna Lucinda!”
“But I had to put in the time in between—always with the off-chance, of course. I got pretty tired, and, when I found myself up at Cimiez about four o’clock, I felt like a cup of tea, so I turned into the first hotel I came to. One of those big affairs, with palm gardens and what not; the ‘Imperial Palace’ it called itself, I think. I pushed through one of those revolving doors and came into a lounge place—you know the sort of thing?
“I sat down at a table about halfway down the lounge and ordered tea. Then I lit a cigarette and looked about me. Round about the door there were a lot of showcases, fitted on to the wall, with jewelry, silver plate, and so on, displayed in them. There was another large one, full of embroidered linen and lace things; it was open, and at it, sampling the goods and chattering away like one o’clock, were Mrs. Forrester and Eunice Unthank—no, not Nina too, thank Heaven! Because the neat girl who was selling, or trying to sell, the stuff, was Madame Valdez! I picked up a copy of the day before yesterday’s _Temps_ from the next table, held it before my face, and peered at them over it. She wasn’t in her blue frock now; she wore plain black, with a bit of white round the neck; short skirt and black silk stockings. They brought my tea; I drank it with one hand and held the _Temps_ up with the other; naturally I didn’t want Mrs. Forrester and Eunice to see me!
“They were the deuce of a time—Lord, I could buy or sell half Europe in the time a woman takes over a pocket-handkerchief!—but I didn’t mind that; I had my plan. At last they went; she did up their parcel and went with them to the door, with lots of ‘Thank you’ and ‘Good-by’ (they spoke English) on both sides. It was past five; I waited still, and meanwhile finished and paid for my tea. I saw her making entries in a ledger; then she went through the case, checking her stock, I suppose; then, just as a clock struck five-thirty, she shut the case with a little bang and turned the key; then she disappeared into a cupboard or something, and came back in her hat and jacket. By that time I was by the door, with my hat and stick in my hand. We met just by her case—which, by the way, had on it in large gilt letters, _Maison de la Belle Étoile_, Nice.