What Mrs. Bond had said was her secret.  She was very fond of Hugh.  They had not met very often, but he had attracted her—­a fact of which both Benton and his female accomplice were well aware.

“You don’t reply,” laughed the woman for whom the Paris Surete was searching everywhere; “but your face betrays the truth, my dear.  Don’t worry,” she added in a tone of sympathy.  “No doubt he’ll write as soon as he is back in England.  Personally, I don’t believe he really cares a rap for the Ranscomb girl.  It’s only a matter of money—­and Dorise has plenty.”

“I don’t wish to hear anything about Mr. Henfrey’s love affairs!” cried the girl petulantly.  “I tell you that they do not interest me.”

“Because you are piqued that he does not write, child.  Ah, dear, I know!” she laughed, as the girl left the room.

A quarter of an hour later Louise was seated in the car, while Mead drove her along the broad highway over the Hog’s Back into Guildford.  The morning was delightful, the trees wore their spring green, and all along in the fields, as they went over the high ridge, the larks were singing gaily the music of a glad morning of the English spring, and the view spread wide on either side.

Life in Surrey was, she found, much preferable to that on the Continent.  True, in the Rue Racine they had entertained a great deal, and she had, during the war, met many very pleasant young English and American officers; but the sudden journey to Switzerland, then on into Italy, and across to New York, had been a whirl of excitement.  Mrs. Maxwell had changed her name several times, because she said that she did not want her divorced husband, a ne’er-do-well, to know of her whereabouts.  He was for ever molesting her, she had told Louise, and for that reason she had passed in different names.

The girl was in complete ignorance of the truth.  She never dreamed that the source of the woman’s wealth was highly suspicious, or that the constant travelling was in order to evade the police.

As she was driven along, she sat back reflecting.  Truth to tell, she was much in love with Hugh.  Benton had first introduced him one night at the Spa in Scarborough, and after that they had met several times on the Esplanade, then again in London, and once in Paris.  Yet while she, on her part, became filled with admiration, he was, apparently, quite unconscious of it.

At last she had heard of Hugh’s infatuation for Dorise Ranscomb, the daughter of the great engineer who had recently died, and indeed she had met her once and been introduced to her.

Of the conditions of old Mr. Henfrey’s will she was, of course, in ignorance.  The girl had no idea of the great plot which had been formed by her foster father and his clever female friend.