Erik stared at the note in his hand, lifted his eyes and was shocked at the height of the mantle over the fireplace. He shook his head when he realised he must have sat down at some point after reading Gracie's brief letter. He read it again, trying to gauge its precise meaning:

Dear Papa:

Please, Papa, PLEASE send a telegram calling me home. I can't stay here any longer.

All my love,

Gracie.

Erik's brow furrowed in preoccupation. It was so unlike Gracie to send such a desperate call for help, after only three days of staying with the Calmette family. She wasn't easily discouraged, and although she might get occasionally overwhelmed in the company of the Calmettes, she would surely find a way to seek some solitude. Something must have happened to her to make her write such a plea. What could have happened?

His hand tightened on the arm of the chair when he thought one of the Calmettes might have insulted her. Erik's ever-lingering fear, that she might be humiliated or looked down upon because of him, reared its ugly head.

He stood up and went to the foyer. He called Françoise, and paced the sitting room restlessly until she finally came.

"Françoise, I need you to go to the post office immediately. You must send a telegram to Gracie."

She curtsied.

"Yes, Monsieur. What does it have to say?"

"Come home immediately. Erik is ill."

Françoise regarded him pensively, and Erik was unnerved. It was a simple message, for pity's sake!

"What's the matter?" he spat.

"Who is supposed to sign it, Monsieur?"

Erik breathed in, finally understanding.

"Monsieur Kahn."

"So. . . Pardon me, Monsieur. I'm not a smart woman. Must it be signed: 'Uncle Nadir'?"

Erik nodded and smiled. Despite what she claimed, Françoise was anything but unintelligent.

"Precisely, Françoise. Precisely."


Gracie scanned the platform from the advantage point on the highest step of the wagon until the passenger behind her made his protests.

"Excuse me, Mademoiselle, but I want to get off the train."

"Of course," she answered, descending the steps.

The platform was full of people, and she didn't know whether Papa had sent Françoise or Uncle Nadir or Darius to pick her up. She looked at the crowd around her, at the people blending in hugs and kisses and shaking hands. She slowly started to make her way towards the hall of the station, weighed down by her suitcase. Suddenly, she caught eye of Françoise, standing upright, craning her neck, and looking quite bewildered.

Françoise heard her name coming from among the people surrounding her and looked around. She saw Gracie, dragging her suitcase. A smile lit her face.

Gracie dropped the suitcase on the floor as she drowned in Françoise's arms. She hugged Françoise back, laughing, surprised at the welcome. Françoise was not the most expressive woman on earth, and an embrace from her was a rare occurrence.

"Hello, Mademoiselle Gracie. Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes, Françoise. Thank you."

"Let me take that," ordered Françoise grabbing the handle of the suitcase.

Gracie started making her way towards the main hall, but Françoise grabbed her arm and pulled her towards a side exit.

"Monsieur Devaux is waiting in the cab. This way."

She tried not to laugh when Gracie's eyes went round as plates.

"Papa came to the station?" Gracie asked incredulously.

Françoise nodded. Monsieur Devaux had been unbearable since he had got Gracie's letter. He had paced the apartment during the day and during the night, getting no sleep and not letting her get any. He had refused to eat, only downing one cup of tea after the other, until his hands were trembling. Fortunately, the girl had gotten passage on the first train to Paris the next morning. Otherwise they would have both gone crazy with impatience and lack of rest. At two-thirty, exactly half an hour before the arrival of the train, Monsieur Erik had ordered her to go downstairs, flag a cab and indicate the coachman to wait in front of the building until he had come out. Françoise hadn't been surprised at the fact he was determined to brave the streets of Paris in a sunny afternoon, though it had been the first time he'd ever done that. There had been no way he could have remained alone at the apartment. Of course, the crowds at the station had proven too much for him, and he had preferred to wait in the comforting darkness of the vehicle.

Françoise hurried out of the station, and directed Gracie towards the cab. She opened the door and shoved Gracie inside, as she instructed the coachman to put the valise at the back. She then climbed on the seat beside the coachman, ignoring the man's protests. Gracie and Monsieur Devaux needed a little time for themselves, and she was not going to deny that to them.