One of the policemen, noticing them, smiled sympathetically at their
battered appearance.
"Would you like to have a cat for your lively ménage?" he said,
pointing to the melancholy animal which Neeland recognised as the
dignified property of the Cercle Extranationale.
The other policeman, more suspicious, eyed Ilse Dumont closely as she
knelt impulsively and picked up the homeless cat.
"Where are you going in such a state?" he asked, moving over the heaps
of splintered glass toward her.
"Back to the Latin Quarter," said Neeland, so cheerfully that
suspicion vanished and a faint grin replaced the official frown.
"Allons, mes enfants," he muttered. "Faut pas s'attrouper dans la
rue. Also you both are a scandal. Allons! Filez! Houp! The sun is
up already!"
They went out across the rue Royale toward the Place de la Concorde,
which spread away before them in deserted immensity and beauty.
There were no taxicabs in sight. Ilse, carrying the cat in her arms,
moved beside Neeland through the deathly stillness of the city, as
though she were walking in a dream. Everywhere in the pale blue sky
above them steeple and dome glittered with the sun; there were no
sounds from quai or river; no breeze stirred the trees; nothing
moved on esplanade or bridge; the pale blue August sky grew bluer; the
gilded tip of the obelisk glittered like a living flame.
Neeland turned and looked up the Champs Elysées.
Far away on the surface of the immense avenue a tiny dark speck was
speeding--increasing in size, coming nearer.
"A taxi," he said with a quick breath of relief. "We'll be all right
now."
Nearer and nearer came the speeding vehicle, rushing toward them
between the motionless green ranks of trees. Neeland walked forward
across the square to signal it, waited, watching its approach with a
slight uneasiness.
Now it sped between the rearing stone horses, and now, swerving, swung
to the left toward the rue Royale. And to his disgust and
disappointment he saw it was a private automobile.
"The devil!" he muttered, turning on his heel.
At the same moment, as though the chauffeur had suddenly caught an
order from within the limousine, the car swung directly toward him
once more.
As he rejoined Ilse, who stood clasping the homeless cat to her
breast, listlessly regarding the approaching automobile, the car swept
in a swift circle around the fountain where they stood, stopped short
beside them; and a woman flung open the door and sprang out to the
pavement.