But no one seemed to be paying any attention to her--not even Paul Valmain any more, who had turned away, and, whispering as he went, was walking rapidly into the salon with the man they had called LeFair. The doctor had slipped his wrist through the handle of his black bag to leave his hands free, and he and the other man were lifting Jean up in their arms--and then, numbly, as they carried him from the room, she followed.
She saw nothing now only Jean's face, so ghastly in pallor, with its closed eyes, and with the black hair tumbling over his forehead. It brought a greater fear upon her; but she kept telling herself that she must be brave, for perhaps they would let her help them when they got upstairs, perhaps there would be something that she could do.
They went on through the salon, and out into the hall, and began to mount the stairs--and then some one, hurrying from the direction of the front door, caught her arm.
"Wait, mademoiselle, wait!" a voice said hoarsely. "Wait--I must speak to you!"
It was Paul Valmain again. She pushed him violently away from her, and, without looking back at him, went on after the others.
On the landing at the head of the stairs, they halted for a moment to open a door, and then for the first time the doctor appeared to notice that she had been following.
"_Pardon_, mademoiselle," he said a little brusquely. "If mademoiselle will be good enough to wait below!"
They were trying to keep her from Jean again. Every one tried to keep her from Jean. She clenched her hands passionately. But now--now they should not keep her away any longer.
"No!" she cried out fiercely. "You shall not send me away! I will not go--I will not!"
He stared at her for an instant, then shrugged his shoulders.
"Very well, mademoiselle. It is perhaps your privilege. I have not time to question it. But since you remain, perhaps you will be good enough to help us."
"Yes!" she said eagerly. "Oh, yes! Tell me what to do."
"Water!" he said tersely. "A basin--cloths!"
With a quick nod of understanding, she ran ahead of them through the door, and hurried on down the hall. She had never been there in Jean's apartment before, but Madame Mi-mi had not been loath to tell her all about it--and so it was not strange to her, and there was something to do now and that seemed to relieve the dull pain that had been torturing her brain, and she could remember again every little detail that Madame Mi-mi had described. The sitting-room, the dressing-room, the bedroom, the dining-room, and from the dining-room into the kitchen--it was a complete menage, though Jean used it so little, save to sleep there, and for his _déjeuners_ which Madame Mi-mi prepared. She procured the basin, filled it, and hurried back with it--going through the rooms this time instead of the corridor--to where in the bedroom they had placed Jean upon the bed. And then there were the cloths--a sheet would serve best for bandages, and that was kept in the linen closet, where too there were clean towels, Madame Mi-mi had said. She could think very clearly now, and she could be much more brave because there was something to do. She flew to the closet, tore a sheet into strips, gathered up some towels, and returned with them again to the bedroom.