ible idleness of that
morning she, who had never a moment to spare, started helping me off with
my overcoat. It was positively embarrassing from its novelty. While
busying herself with those trifles she murmured without any marked
intention:

"Captain Blunt is with Madame."

This didn't exactly surprise me. I knew he had come up to town; I only
happened to have forgotten his existence for the moment. I looked at the
girl also without any particular intention. But she arrested my movement
towards the dining-room door by a low, hurried, if perfectly unemotional
appeal:

"Monsieur George!"

That of course was not my name. It served me then as it will serve for
this story. In all sorts of strange places I was alluded to as "that
young gentleman they call Monsieur George." Orders came from "Monsieur
George" to men who nodded knowingly. Events pivoted about "Monsieur
George." I haven't the slightest doubt that in the dark and tortuous
streets of the old Town there were fingers pointed at my back: there goes
"Monsieur George." I had been introduced discreetly to several
considerable persons as "Monsieur George." I had learned to answer to
the name quite naturally; and to simplify matters I was also "Monsieur
George" in the street of the Consuls and in the Villa on the Prado. I
verily believe that at that time I had the feeling that the name of
George really belonged to me. I waited for what the girl had to say. I
had to wait some time, though during that silence she gave no sign of
distress or agitation. It was for her obviously a moment of reflection.
Her lips were compressed a little in a characteristic, capable manner. I
looked at her with a friendliness I really felt towards her slight,
unattractive, and dependable person.

"Well," I said at last, rather amused by this mental hesitation. I never
took it for anything else. I was sure it was not distrust. She
appreciated men and things and events solely in relation to Dona Rita's
welfare and safety. And as to that I believed myself above suspicion.
At last she spoke.

"Madame is not happy." This information was given to me not emotionally
but as it were officially. It hadn't even a tone of warning. A mere
statement. Without waiting to see the effect she opened the dining-room
door, not to announce my name in the usual way but to go in and shut it
behind her. In that short moment I heard no voices inside. Not a sound
reached me while the doo