Serena’s room-key hung, in trusting European fashion on a high nail beside her door. Cynthia took it down, glanced once again along the corridor, thought she heard footsteps and hastily turned the key. Inside.
Serena’s bag, already packed, had been slid beneath her bed. Her traveling coat and hat, her street shoes were with it. Cynthia grabbed the lot and opened the door again. Then came a moment of fright, for the maid, Agnés, stood just outside in the corridor. But she was wreathed in smiles, already primed by Serena for the _enlévement_, the elopement, and her ancient romantic heart was in the job. She piloted Cynthia along the corridor and down the servant’s stairway, then out through an alley behind the garage, put her finger to her lips as a vow of silence, then blew a kiss into the air as a gesture of her best wishes for the bride and groom. No word between them had been passed during the whole four minutes of action. Cynthia, giggling, was on her way. This was certainly something to write home about.
The remainder worked like a charm, a charm of ancient Carcassonne, where, even in the tenth century young ladies must have fled with their heart’s desire. At nine o’clock the _rapide_ for Marseilles stopped for five minutes at the tiny station. At nine minutes to nine Jack with his suitcase, Cynthia with Serena’s belongings and a bunch of flowers for the bride-to-be, watched anxiously down the street. Then against the sunset appeared Serena, breathless, with dusty evening slippers, still in her dinner gown, but happy and incoherent with excitement.
“Oh you treasures, both of you!” she cried. “Have we tickets? ... Goodness, there’s the train already ... She thinks I’m out buying some aspirin tablets ... I didn’t have time to leave a note on the pincushion ... My lamb, will you tell her I’ve gone? ...” and rattled on and on while they climbed into the compartment. Cynthia kept one anxious eye on the door. She didn’t know what would be the proper procedure should Aunt Anna appear at the station with the fire of suspicion in her eye. Cynthia had a wild momentary vision of herself grabbing the woman around her ample waist and hanging on until the train could have pulled out.