"I don't believe it," Monte answered. Yet it was only yesterday that he had wandered over half Paris in search of something to bring his schedule back to normal. And he had found it--in front of the Opera House at eleven o'clock at night. Monte strode into his hotel with a snap that made the little clerk glance up in surprise. "Any mail for me?" he inquired. "A telephone message, monsieur." He handed Monte an envelope. It was not often that he received telephone messages. It read as follows:-- Can't you come over? Teddy was very angry about the taxi, and I think I shall leave Paris tonight. The flowers were beautiful. Monte felt his breath coming fast. "How long has this been waiting for me?" he demanded. "A half-hour, monsieur." He hurried out the door and into a taxi. "Sixty-four Boulevard Saint-Germain--and hurry." Leaving Paris? She had no right to do that. Edhart never left. That was the beauty of Edhart--that he remained stationary, so that he could always be found. He was quite sure that Edhart was too considerate even to die, could he have avoided it. Now Marjory was proposing to go and leave him here alone. He could not allow that. It was too early to quit Paris, anyway. It was only the first day of spring! She came down into the gloomy _pension_ reception-room looking as if she had already begun to assist Marie with the packing. Her hair had become loosened, and escaped in several places in black curls that gave her a distinctly girlish appearance. There was more color, too, in her cheeks; but it was the flush of excitement rather than the honest red that colored his own cheeks. She looked tired and discouraged. She sank into a chair. "It was good of you to come, Monte," she said. "But I don't know why I should bother you with my affairs. Only--he was so disagreeable. He frightened me, for a moment." "What did he do?" demanded Monte.