“You will like to have me there?” she asked.

Her question came with the simplicity of a child.  She laughed softly with pleasure when I leaned over the table and whispered to her,—­

“Better than anything else in the world!”

“I am not sure, Capitaine Rotherby,” she said, looking at me out of her great eyes, “whether you are behaving nicely.”

“If I am not,” I declared, “it is your fault!  You should not look so charming.”

She laughed softly.

“And you should not make such speeches to a poor little foreign girl,” she said, “who knows so little of your London ways.”

Louis stood suddenly before us.  We felt his presence like a cold shadow.  The laughter died away from her eyes, and I found it difficult enough to address him civilly.

“Monsieur is well served?” he asked.  “Everything all right, eh?”

“Everything is very good, as usual, Louis,” I answered.  “The only thing that is amiss you cannot alter.”

“For example?” he asked.

“The atmosphere,” I answered.  “It is no weather for London.”

“Monsieur is right,” he admitted.  “He is thinking of departing for the country soon?”

“It depends a little upon mademoiselle,” I answered.

Louis shook his head very slowly.  He had the air of a man who discusses something with infinite regret.

“It would be very delightful indeed,” he said, “if it were possible for mademoiselle to go into Norfolk to your brother’s house.  It would be very good for mademoiselle, but I am not sure—­I fear that her uncle—­”

“How the mischief did you know anything about it?” I asked in amazement.

Louis smiled—­that subtle, half-concealed smile which seemed scarcely to part his lips.

“Why should not mademoiselle have told me?” he asked.

“But I have not!” she declared suddenly.  “I have not seen Louis since you were here this afternoon, Capitaine Rotherby.”

Louis extended his hands.

“It is true,” he admitted.  “It is not from mademoiselle that I had the news.  But there, one cannot tell.  Things may alter at any moment.  It may be very pleasant for Monsieur Delora that his niece is able to accept this charming invitation.”

“So you have been in communication with Mr. Delora, Louis?” I asked.

“Naturally,” Louis answered.  “He told me of mademoiselle’s request.  He told me that he had promised to reply at ten o’clock this evening.”

“Perhaps you can tell us,” I remarked, “what that reply will be?”

Louis’ face remained absolutely expressionless.  He only shook his head.

“Mr. Delora is his own master,” he said.  “It may suit him to be without mademoiselle, or it may not.  Pardon, monsieur!”

Louis was gone, but he had left his shadow behind.

“He does not think,” she murmured, “that I may come!”

“Felicia,—­” I said.