Anxious to communicate with her without Woodroffe's knowledge, I was now awaiting my opportunity.

He had, it appeared, taken for her a pleasant front room with sitting-room adjoining on the first floor, while he himself occupied a room on the third floor.

The apartments he had engaged for her were the most expensive in the hotel, and as far as I could gather from the French waiter whom I judiciously tipped, he appeared to treat her with every consideration and kindness.
"Ah, poor young lady!" the man exclaimed as he stood in my room answering my questions, "What an affliction! She writes down all her orders--for she can utter no word." "Has the Englishman received any visitors ?" I asked.
"One man--a Russian--an official of police, I think." "If he receives anyone else, let me know," I said.

"And I want you to give Mademoiselle a letter from me in secret." "Bien, m'sieur." I turned to the little writing-table and scribbled a few hasty lines to my love, announcing my presence, and asking her to grant me an interview in secret as soon as Woodroffe was absent.

I also warned her of the search for her instigated by the Baron, and urged her to send me a line in reply.
The note was delivered into her hand, but although I waited in suspense nearly all day she sent no reply.