THE UNSPEAKABLE GENTLEMAN
"Surely he told you," she murmured, "Surely he told you what the Marquis had intended."
Then she stopped, confused and silent.
"Mon Dieu!" she exclaimed suddenly, "But he has told you nothing!"
"No," I said dully, "He has been most discreet. But does it make any real difference, Mademoiselle, except that I know now that the Marquis was a man of very keen discrimination?"
"Are you mad?" cried Mademoiselle, "I tell you it is not your father. I tell you I—"
Her face had grown scarlet. She bowed her head, and tugged more violently than ever at the corner of her handkerchief.
"*Mademoiselle," I said unsteadily, "Mademoiselle, what was it he told you at Blanzy?"
"I cannot tell you if you do not know," she answered, "Indeed I cannot."
"But you will!" I cried. "You will, Mademoiselle! You must! Mademoiselle"
Her eyes had met mine again.
"They were breaking in the door," she began, "and he was going down to meet them. I told him—I told him to go, to leave me, and take the paper. He said"
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