“Who is it?  Who is it, Maud?”

She made him some reassuring answer, and, rising to her feet, came over to my table.  I rose to greet her, and she slipped quietly into the chair opposite to me.

“What are you doing here?” she asked quickly.

“I have just arrived from Braster,” I answered.  “I came here by accident to get something to eat.  Is that—­”

I could not go on, but she finished the sentence for me.

“Yes!”

I set my teeth hard and looked steadily down at the tablecloth.  I felt rather than saw that her regard was compassionate.

“I am sorry,” she murmured.  “I would not have brought him here if I had known.  You two are better apart.  Talk to me as naturally as you can.  He has no idea who you are.”

“Has he been ill?” I asked.

“Very.  I found him in a hospital.  He has been ill, and the rest you can guess.”

Even while we were talking I saw him toss off another glass of brandy which the waiter had brought him.  And all the time his eyes never left my face.

“I thought,” I said, “that he had money.”

“It has all gone,” she answered, “and—­well, things are not very flourishing with him.  Our mission over here has been unsuccessful, and they have stopped sending us money from Paris.  How queer that I should be telling you this!” she added, with a hard little laugh, “you, of all people in the world.  Guy, take my advice.  Get up and go.  If he guesses who you are he will come and speak to you—­and you are better apart.”

It was too late.  With fascinated eyes I watched him leave his place and come towards us.  I was absolutely powerless to move.  Mrs. Smith-Lessing had left the outside chair vacant.  He sank into it and leaned across the table towards me.

“It is Guy,” he said in a shaking voice.  “I am sure that it is Guy.  She has told you who I am.  Eh?”

“Yes,” I answered.  “I know who you are.”

He extended a shaking hand across the table.  I could not take it.

“Well, well,” he said nervously, “perhaps you are right.  But I came to England to see you.  Yes, Guy, that is the truth!  I have been a bad father, but I may be able to make amends.  I think I know a way.—­ Waiter, a glass of brandy.”

“I am afraid,” I said, rising to my feet, “that you must excuse me.—­If you have anything to say to me, sir, we can meet another time.”

He almost dragged me down.

“Stop, stop!” he said irritably.  “You do not seem to understand.  I had an important matter of business to discuss with you.  I may make your fortune yet, my boy!  I have powerful friends abroad, very powerful.”

I looked at him steadily.

“Well?”

She laid her hand upon his arm, and whispered in his ear.  He only shook his head angrily.

“Nonsense, Maud!” he exclaimed.  “You do not understand.  This is my son Guy.  Of course we must talk together.  It is a wonderful meeting—­yes, a wonderful meeting.”