“To you, Mr. Hamel,” she said, “it may seem so.  We who make it know of its necessity.”

He bowed his head.  It was not a subject for him to discuss with her.

“Mr. Fentolin has whims,” she went on, “violent whims.  We all try to humour him.  He has his own ideas about Gerald’s bringing up.  I do not agree with them, but we submit.  Esther, too, suffers, perhaps to a less extent.  As for me,”—­her voice broke a little—­ “Mr. Fentolin likes people around him who are always cheerful.  He prefers even a certain style—­of dress.  I, too, have to do my little share.”

Hamel’s face grew darker.

“Has it ever occurred to you,” he demanded, “that Mr. Fentolin is a tyrant?”

She closed her eyes for a moment.

“There are reasons,” she declared, “why I cannot discuss that with you.  He has these strong fancies, and it is our task in life to humour them.  He has one now with regard to the Tower, with regard to you.  You are, of course, your own master.  You can do as you choose, and you will do as you choose.  Neither I nor my children have any claim upon your consideration.  But, Mr. Hamel, you have been so kind that I feel moved to tell you this.  It would make it very much easier for all of us if you would give up this scheme of yours, if you would stay on here instead of going to reside at the Tower.”

Hamel threw away his cigarette.  He was deeply interested.

“Mrs. Fentolin,” he said, “I am glad to have you speak so plainly.  Let me answer you in the same spirit.  I am leaving this house mainly because I have conceived certain suspicions with regard to Mr. Fentolin.  I do not like him, I do not trust him, I do not believe in him.  Therefore, I mean to remove myself from the burden of his hospitality.  There are reasons,” he went on, “why I do not wish to leave the neighbourhood altogether.  There are certain investigations which I wish to make.  That is why I have decided to go to the Tower.”

“Miles was right, then!” she cried suddenly.  “You are here to spy upon him!”

He turned towards her swiftly.

“To spy upon him, Mrs. Fentolin?  For what reason?  Why?  Is he a criminal, then?”

She opened her lips and closed them again.  There was a slight frown upon her forehead.  It was obvious that the word had unintentionally escaped her.

“I only know what it is that he called you, what he suspects you of being,” she explained.  “Mr. Fentolin is very clever, and he is generally at work upon something.  We do not enquire into the purpose of his labours.  The only thing I know is that he suspects you of wanting to steal one of his secrets.”

“Secrets?  But what secrets has he?” Hamel demanded.  “Is he an inventor?”

“You ask me idle questions,” she sighed.  “We have gone, perhaps, a little further than I intended.  I came to plead with you for all our sakes, if I could, to make things more comfortable by remaining here instead of insisting upon your claim to the Tower.”