“And she had a daughter—­a tall, fine-looking girl, always ready for amusement, always full of laughter and reckless gaiety—­a true adventuress’ daughter—­but, at the same time, an innocent, unsophisticated, artless girl, who saw nothing, knew nothing, understood nothing of all the things that happened in her father’s house.

“The girl was simply a puzzle to me.  She was a mystery.  She lived amid those infamous surroundings with a quiet, tranquil ease that was either terribly criminal or else the result of innocence.  She sprang from the filth of that class like a beautiful flower fed on corruption.”

“How do you know about them?”

“How do I know?  That’s the funniest part of the business!  One morning there was a ring at my door, and my valet came up to tell me that M. Joseph Bonenthal wanted to speak to me.  I said directly: 

“‘And who is this gentleman?’ My valet replied:  ’I don’t know, monsieur; perhaps ‘tis some one that wants employment.’  And so it was.  The man wanted me to take him as a servant.  I asked him where he had been last.  He answered:  ‘With the Comtesse Samoris.’  ‘Ah!’ said I, ’but my house is not a bit like hers.’  ‘I know that well, monsieur,’ he said, ’and that’s the very reason I want to take service with monsieur.  I’ve had enough of these people:  a man may stay a little while with them, but he won’t remain long with them.’  I required an additional man servant at the time and so I took him.

“A month later Mademoiselle Yvette Samoris died mysteriously, and here are all the details of her death I could gather from Joseph, who got them from his sweetheart, the comtesse’s chambermaid.

“It was a ball night, and two newly arrived guests were chatting behind a door.  Mademoiselle Yvette, who had just been dancing, leaned against this door to get a little air.

“They did not see her approaching, but she heard what they were saying.  And this was what they said: 

“‘But who is the father of the girl?’

“’A Russian, it appears; Count Rouvaloff.  He never comes near the mother now.’

“‘And who is the reigning prince to-day?’

“’That English prince standing near the window; Madame Samoris adores him.  But her adoration of any one never lasts longer than a month or six weeks.  Nevertheless, as you see, she has a large circle of admirers.  All are called—­and nearly all are chosen.  That kind of thing costs a good deal, but—­hang it, what can you expect?’

“‘And where did she get this name of Samoris?’

“’From the only man perhaps that she ever loved—­a Jewish banker from Berlin who goes by the name of Samuel Morris.’

“’Good.  Thanks.  Now that I know what kind of woman she is and have seen her, I’m off!’