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Not until past midday was some sort of order restored. Then Casca de Palk took his leave, and the rest of us went to such rest as our physical and mental conditions allowed us to take.

We had, it seemed, done what we could. The authorities had been informed and would get to work. That we could ourselves do no more seemed painfully probable. What was as clear as paint was that until our heads stopped aching we could think to no purpose at all.

* * * * *

We had been in Paris five days and had been proposing to stay for another fifteen. The visit was annual. Three years ago we had all met in this way, sharing the same suite of rooms in the same hotel and all returning to England about the middle of June. Paris can be very charming when summer is coming in, and our stay had proved so pleasant in every way that we had determined to make it an institution with which no other engagement should interfere. When I say 'we', I except Casca de Palk. Casca was of Paris, but we had known him for years and while we stayed in his city he was continually with us in all we did.