"Where do they come from?" Nan was looking nearly as bewildered as the foreign-speaking horde.
Singleton was waiting to hand Nan and Miss Greta into his cab.
"_Non! non!_" a high, agitated voice said in passing, "_les Allemands n'ont pas dépassé la ligne Ostende-Menin!_"
Out in the street newsboys were crying an extra: "Great battle raging! _Arrival of Canadian Troops!_"
About noon the next day a couple of porters stood waiting for the service-lift at the Royal Palace hotel. Each man had a sole-leather trunk on his shoulder, a trunk so new that the initialing "G. V. S." was still wet. It was something else which halted Napier in the act of sending up his card to Miss Ellis, a glimpse of Singleton's face behind an outspread newspaper.
"Cabs full of stuff keep coming," was the gentleman's _sotto voce_ comment.
Napier wondered drily that anybody should expect to get the stuff out of England.
"Personal wardrobe. Member of household of cabinet minister. Special privileges. And nobody knows better that avoidance of publicity is worth thousands of pounds to Sir William and, I daresay, to the Government. She's playing it for all she's worth. She's got this Mr. Julian Grant in her pocket, too. He's up with her now."
The lift came down with Nan. She made a little hurried bow, and was for escaping. Napier stood there in front of her.
"I can't; I'm sorry. I haven't _got_ a minute."
"Yes, you have," he said bitterly, "when I tell you it's about Miss Greta's affairs."
The face was whiter, more transparent, than he had ever seen it.
"You don't look as if you'd had a wink of sleep."
Although Singleton had vanished, Nan showed little disposition to linger. As Napier stood there, looking down at the face alight with fidelity and eager service, he knew in his soul he was thankful there wasn't time, nor this the place, to wring her heart with the disgraceful truth about her friend. The last thing he expected to say was the first to come out.
"A ... you don't gather, I suppose, that Miss Greta is at all harassed about money?"
"It is kind of you to think that!" She smiled at him. "The fact is, Greta--that is, I _did_ cable home last night. I am going back to the bank now, to see if they've heard."
Napier arrested her slight movement. "Just let me understand. Do you mean that you've overdrawn your account?"