intense, brooding face. He seemed amused by everything that was happening around him,
more an observer at the party than a guest.
Noelle caught his eye and smiled.
Armand Gautier was one of the top directors in France. He was in charge of the
French Repertory Theater, and his productions had been acclaimed all over the world.
Having Gautier direct a play or a motion picture was an almost certain guarantee of its
success. He had the reputation of being particularly good with actresses and had created
half a dozen important stars.
Sorel was at Noelle’s side, talking to her. “Were you surprised, my darling?” he
asked.
“Yes, Philippe,” she said.
“I want us to be married right away. We’ll have the wedding at my villa.”
Over his shoulder Noelle could see Armand Gautier watching her, smiling that
enigmatic smile. Some friends came and took Philippe away and when Noelle turned,
Gautier was standing there.
“Congratulations,” he said. There was a mocking note in his voice. “You hooked a
big fish.”
“Did I?”
“Philippe Sorel is a great catch.”
“For someone perhaps,” Noelle said indifferently.
Gautier looked at her in surprise. “Are you trying to tell me you’re not interested?”
“I’m not trying to tell you anything.”
“Good luck.” He turned to go.
“Monsieur Gautier…”
He stopped.
“Could I see you tonight?” Noelle asked quietly. “I would like to talk to you alone.”
Armand Gautier looked at her for a moment, then shrugged. “If you wish.”
“I will come to your place. Will that be satisfactory?”
“Yes, of course. The address is—”
“I know the address. Twelve o’clock?”
“Twelve o’clock.”
Armand Gautier lived in a fashionable old apartment building on rue Marbeuf. A
doorman escorted Noelle into the lobby and an elevator boy took her to the fourth floor
and indicated Gautier’s apartment. Noelle rang the bell. A few moments later the door was