“It is my uncle who makes use of Louis,” she said.

“I’m hanged if I can see how he can make use of a fellow like that if his business is an honest one,” I answered.

“It is not for you to understand,” she answered.  “You are not a policeman.  You are not concerned in these things.”

“I am concerned in you!” I answered passionately.  “Felicia, you drive me almost wild when you talk like this.  You know very well that it is not curiosity which has made me set my teeth, and swear that I will discover the truth of these things.  It is because I see you implicated in them, because I believe in you, Felicia, because I love you!”

She was in my arms for one long, delicious moment.  Then she tore herself away.

“You mean it, Austen?” she whispered.

“I mean it!” I answered solemnly.  “Felicia, I think you know that I mean it!”

“Then you must be patient,” she said, “for just a little time.  You must wait until my uncle has finished his business.  It will take a very short time now.  Then you may come and call again, and remind us of your brother.  You will understand everything then, and I believe that you will be still willing to ask us down to your country home.”

“And if I am, Felicia?” I asked.

“We shall come,” she murmured.  “You know that.  Good-bye, Austen!  I must fly.  If Madame Muller finds that I have left the room I shall be a prisoner for a week.”

I opened the door.  Even then I would have kept her, if only for a moment; but just as I bent down we heard the sound of footsteps outside, and she hurried away.  I sat down and lit a cigarette.  So it was over, then, my little attempt at espionage!  My word was pledged.  I could do no more.

I walked round to Claridge’s later in the evening and saw my brother.

“Ralph,” I said, “if your offer of the shooting is still good, I think I will take a few men down to Feltham.”

“Do, Austen,” he answered.  “Old Heggs will be ever so pleased.  It seems a shame not to have a gun upon the place.  I shall come down myself later on.  What about those people, the Deloras?”

“The uncle is away,” I answered, “and the girl cannot very well come by herself.  Perhaps we may see something of them later on.”

Ralph looked at me a little curiously, but he made no remark.

“You won’t be lonely up here alone?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“I have plenty to do,” he answered.  “I shall probably be down myself before the end of the month.  Whom shall you ask?”