Aggitated as she was, Anne wanted to argue, wanted to point out the utter madness of what Aramis was saying: She couldn't be in a hotel, had he been listening? She'd been in the Louvre, with its guards and gates and Rochefort all trying to lock her in. The clash of emotions warring within her was reaching a fever pitch and she was edging perilously close to panic, when she made to hastily answer the question put to her and found the answer had very literally disappeared.

"How...?" she exhaled, and stepped forward to press the palms of her hands against the far wall. "It was here, just here!" She'd tripped just past the threshold and hadn't moved more than a few steps, but the door was gone. It was as if it had never been there in the first place.