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Hester was sitting, demure and wide-eyed, near the vestiaire. He led her into the restaurant, mentally prescribing for himself some tonic consommation in view of the unpleasant task which lay before him. Also, a quiet corner—surtout somewhere really quiet with no eavesdroppers. He did in fact find, in the upstairs rear of the 'Toulousaine', a table which answered to his requirements.

Next came the meal. He discovered that he felt hungry. He had enough of the Frenchman in him to succumb very quickly to the attractions of a well-arranged menu. Hester, although never losing sight of the problem of the waistline, was nevertheless rather fond of food. They ordered what would have seemed a somewhat elaborate meal to the average Englishman. The sommelier, who knew René, took matters a step farther: and before he had left, they had decided, after the cocktails, on a wine decidedly on the heavy side, and, in a word, his plan for a somewhat austere meal, with some brandy to brace him up, had been forgotten. Or it would be more true to say that good reasons had been found, under the pressure of hunger, to feed, even to overfeed, rather than merely to stimulate as had originally been intended.