CHAPTER VIII
THE PASSING OF IVAN
Ivan greeted Léontine in his usual polite and formal manner, then bowed to me. He looked very badly; with black shadows under his eyes, and the red-rimmed, swollen lids told of lack of sleep. Yet the eyes themselves were brighter than ever—too bright, I thought, as they rested on me.
The salad was being served when Ivan came in. He declined to eat anything, but took a glass of the Chablis, and directly the wine began to make itself apparent in his face, for he seldom touched anything alcoholic.
"You look badly," said Léontine, and shot a glance at me. "Did your conference with Chu-Chu go wrong?"
"Worse than that," said Ivan. "He failed to keep the rendezvous. You can guess what that means."
"Yes," she answered—"especially as he was sitting in front of the café opposite when Frank arrived. That is what has been puzzling us, because afterward he came into the house on the silly pretext of having been sent by the proprietor to look over the plumbing. Frank sounded general quarters and proceeded to 'cast loose and provide.'" (I wondered where she had picked up that man-o'-war expression.) "I told Victor to tell him he was wanted on the Rue Monceau."
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