"But we turned up late last night," said Nancy quickly. "Very, very late;
long after midnight."

"Still, my brother and I came in after you," said Daisy Burton suddenly.
And then she smiled and reddened. Mrs. Dampier must certainly have
overheard Gerald's remark.

"It was an awful job getting a cab after that play, father, and it must
have been nearly one o'clock when we got in. As we felt sure this side of
the house was shut up we went up that queer little back staircase, and so
past the open door of Mrs. Dampier's room," she explained.

To the Senator's surprise, Mrs. Dampier also grew red; indeed, she blushed
crimson from forehead to chin.

"My brother thought you were French," went on Daisy, a little awkwardly.
"In fact, we both thought you must be Madame Poulain's daughter. We knew
that was Virginie's room, and we've always been hearing of that girl ever
since we first came to stay in Paris. She used to be at a convent school,
and she's with her grandmother in the country just now, to be out of the
Exhibition rush. The Poulains simply worship her."

The Senator looked very thoughtful as he walked downstairs behind the two
girls. The mystery was thickening in a very disagreeable way. Both
hotel-keepers had stated positively that the "demoiselle anglaise," as they
called her, had slept in their daughter's room....

But what was this the lady who called herself Mrs. Dampier saying?