“Miss Grey, is it not?”

Katherine said that it was, and the young man beamed upon her seraphically and murmured: “I am Chubby, you know⁠—Lady Tamplin’s husband. I expect she mentioned me, but perhaps she forgot. Have you got your billet de bagages ? I lost mine when I came out this year, and you would not believe the fuss they made about it. Regular French red tape!”

Katherine produced it, and was just about to move off beside him when a very gentle and insidious voice murmured in her ear:

“A little moment, Madame, if you please.”

Katherine turned to behold an individual who made up for insignificance of stature by a large quantity of gold lace and uniform. The individual explained. “There were certain formalities. Madame would perhaps be so kind as to accompany him. The regulations of the police⁠—” He threw up his arms. “Absurd, doubtless, but there it was.”