replied. "One hears that she has lent the château to friends. Two ladies are there, and one gentleman. It is all."
"Do you know who they are?" Wrayson asked.
The landlord assumed an air of mystery.
"One," he said, "is a young English lady. The other—well, they call her Madame de Melbain."
"What?"
The exclamation came like a pistol-shot from Wrayson's fellow-guest at the inn, who, up to now, had taken no part in the conversation. He had turned suddenly round, and was facing the startled landlord.
"Madame de Melbain," he repeated. "Monsieur, perhaps, knows the lady?"
There was a moment's silence. Then the man who had called himself Duncan looked away, frowning.
"No!" he said, "I do not know her. The name is familiar, but there is no lady of my acquaintance bearing it at present."
The landlord looked a little disappointed.
"Ah!" he remarked, "I had hoped that monsieur would have been able to give us a little information. There are many people in the village who would like to know who this Madame de Melbain is, for it is since her coming that all has been different. The park has been closed, the peasants and farmers have received orders forbidding them to accept boarders at present, and I myself am asked—for a consideration, I admit—to receive no further guests. Naturally, we ask ourselves, monsieur, what does it mean? One does not wish to gossip, but there is much here to wonder at!"
"What is she like, this Madame de Melbain?" Duncan asked.
