person, said: "Well, I think I'll go and take a little fresh air. Thanks for

your help, Stevens."

 

It had been my intention to seek out a further interview with Mr Cardinal with

minimum delay, but this proved to be impossible, owing largely to the arrival

that same afternoon - some two days earlier than expected - of Mr Lewis, the

American senator. I had been down in my pantry working through the supplies

sheets, when I had heard somewhere above my head the unmistakable sounds of

motor cars pulling up in the courtyard. As I hastened to go upstairs, I happened

to encounter Miss Kenton in the back corridor - the scene, of course, of our

last disagreement - and it was perhaps this unhappy coincidence that encouraged

her to maintain the childish behaviour she had adopted on that previous

occasion. For when I inquired who it was that had arrived, Miss Kenton continued

past me, stating simply: "A message if it is urgent, Mr Stevens." This was

extremely annoying, but, of course, I had no choice but to hurry on upstairs.

 

My recollection of Mr Lewis is that of a gentleman of generous dimensions with a

genial smile that rarely left his face. His early arrival was clearly something

of an inconvenience to his lordship and his colleagues who had reckoned on a day

or two more of privacy for their preparations. However, Mr Lewis's engagingly

informal manner, and his statement at dinner that the United States "would

always stand on the side of justice and didn't mind admitting mistakes had been

made at Versailles" seemed to do much to win the confidence of his lordship's

'home team'; as dinner progressed, the conversation had slowly but surely turned

from topics such as the merits of Mr Lewis's native Pennsylvania back to the