She had indeed managed well, but his own downfall had thwarted her. He was a nobody. They were doubtless right in wanting to keep him from her. Yet he would see that tomb, and at the earliest possible moment.
At eleven that night they reached the capital. A dispiriting silence was maintained to the doors of a hotel. The women drooped in chairs. Breede acquainted the reception committee of a Paris hostelry with the party's needs as to chambers.
Thereupon they discovered one of the party to be missing. No one had seen him since entering. They were excited by this, all but the flapper.
"I don't blame him," averred the flapper. . . . "Tagging us! You let him alone! I shall perfectly not worry if he doesn't come home all night. Do you understand? And when he does come"
"Not safe," snapped Breede. "King of Egypt, Napoleon . . . not after money, just principle of thing. Chap's nutty—talk'n' like that!"
"Good night!" snapped the flapper in her turn.
