“Well,” she said, “even if it were so, he could be very kind to me, couldn’t he, even if he was in Brazil and I was in Paris?  You see, my father was the poor one of the family, who died without any money at all, yet I have always had everything in the world I want, and when I come of age they are going to give me a great sum of money.  It is not that I think about,” she went on, “but they write to me always, and they treat me as though I were their own daughter.  Often they have said how they would love to have had me out in Brazil.  I think that it is really their own kindness that they let me stay in Paris.”

“Felicia,” I said, “tell me really how much you do know of your uncle—­the one who is with you now?”

She shook her head.

“No!” she said.  “I cannot do that.  I made a promise and I must keep it.  But I will promise you this, if you like.  If I find that it is not the truth which I have been told I will come to you if you want me.”

I held her hands tightly in mine.

“You are beginning to have doubts, are you not?” I asked.

“Oh, I don’t know!” she answered.  “I don’t know!  There are times when I am frightened.  Austen, I must go now.”

I looked at the clock.  It was almost two o’clock.

“We couldn’t have lunch together, I suppose?” I asked.

She shook her head, laughing.

“I had lunch more than an hour ago,” she said, “and I have to meet madame at a dress-maker’s.  I must go, really, Austen.”

“Can’t I see you again, dear?”

“I will come into this room, if I can, about five,” she said.  “Don’t come out with me now.  It is the luncheon time in the cafe, and I am afraid of Louis.”

She flitted away, leaving behind a faint odor of violets shaken from the skirts she had lifted so daintily as she had hurried down the few steps.  I watched her out of sight.  Then I opened the door myself and passed out into the cafe....

Louis, for the first few minutes, was not visible, but one of the other maitres d’hotel procured for me a table in a somewhat retired corner of the room.  My luncheon was already served before Louis appeared before me.  For the second time his impassive countenance seemed to be disturbed.

“Back in London, Captain Rotherby,” he remarked, with the ghost of his usual welcoming smile.

“Back again, Louis,” I answered cheerfully.

Louis bent over my table.

“I thought,” he said, “that an English gentleman never broke his promise!”

“Nor does he, Louis,” I answered, “unless the circumstances under which it was given themselves change.  I came up from the country this morning.”

“Upon private business?” Louis asked.

“No!” I answered.  “Upon the business in which you and Mr. Delora are both interested.  Did you know, Louis, that I had a brother in Brazil?”

“What of it, monsieur?” Louis asked sharply.