in with black net from shoulder to throat.  Then the blue jewel-bag was opened, and a nodding diamond tiger-lily to match the golden ones was carefully selected from a blinding array of brilliants, to glitter in her masses of copper hair.  Round her neck went a rope of pearls that fell to the waist whose slenderness I had just, with a mighty muscular effort, secured; but not until she had dotted a few butterflies, bats, beetles and other scintillating insects about her person was she satisfied with the effect.  At least, she was certain to create a sensation, as Sir Samuel proudly remarked when he walked in to get his necktie tied by me—­a habit he has adopted.

“I wonder if I ought to trust Elise with my bag?” Lady Turnour asked him, anxiously, at last.  “So far, since we’ve been on tour, I’ve carried it over my arm everywhere, but it doesn’t go very well with a costume like this.  What do you think?”

“Why, I think that Elise is a very good girl, and that your jewels will be perfectly safe with her if you tell her to take care of the bag, and not let it out of her sight,” replied Sir Samuel, evidently embarrassed by such a question within earshot of the said Elise.

“Perhaps I’d better have dinner in my own room, so as to guard it more carefully?” I suggested, brightening with the inspiration.

“That’s not necessary,” answered her ladyship.  “You can perfectly well eat downstairs, with the bag over your arm, as I have done for the last two days.  I don’t intend to pay extra for you to have your meals served in your room on any excuse whatever.”

I couldn’t very well offer to pay for myself.  That would have raised the suspicion that I had hidden reasons of my own for dining in private, and I regretted that I hadn’t held my tongue.  Lady Turnour ostentatiously locked the receptacle of her jewels with its little gilded key, which she placed in a gold chain-bag studded with rubies as large as currants; and then, reminding me that I was responsible for valuables worth she didn’t know how many thousands, she swept away, leaving a trail of white heliotrope behind.

In any case I would wait, I thought, until I could be tolerably certain that all the guests of the hotel had gone down to dinner.  If I knew Monsieur Charretier, he would be among the first to feed, but I couldn’t afford to run needless risks.  I lingered over the task of putting my mistress’s belongings in order, almost with pleasure, and then, once in my own room, I took as long as I could with my own toilet.  I was ready at last, and could think of no further excuse for pottering, when suddenly it occurred to me that I might do my hair in a demurer, less becoming way, so that, if I should have the ill luck to encounter a sortie of the enemy, I might still contrive to pass without being recognized.

I pinned a clean towel round my neck, barber fashion, and pulling the pins out of my hair, shook it down over my shoulders.  But before I could twist it up again, there came a light tap, tap, at the door.