t a very
old friend--I am at least an intimate one."

The Marquise shook her head.

"She is not in a fit state to see any one," she declared. "The visit to
the Morgue has upset her almost as much as the affair itself. You must
have patience, Monsieur. In a fortnight or three weeks at the earliest
she may be disposed to see friends. Certainly not at present."

"I may send her a message?" Duncombe asked.

The Marquise nodded.

"Yes. You may write it, if you like."

"And I may wait for an answer?"

"Yes."

Duncombe scribbled a few lines on the back of a visiting-card. The
Marquise took it from him and rose.

"I will return," she said. "You shall be entirely satisfied."

She left him alone for nearly ten minutes. She had scarcely left the
room when another visitor entered. The Vicomte de Bergillac, in a dark
brown suit and an apple-green tie, bowed to Duncombe, and carefully
selected the most comfortable chair in his vicinity.

"So you took my advice, Monsieur," he remarked, helping himself to a
cushion from another chair, and placing it behind his head.

"I admit it," Duncombe answered. "On the whole I believe that it was
very good advice."

"Would you," the Vicomte murmured, "like another dose?"

"I trust," Duncombe said, "that there is no necessity."

The Vicomte reflected.

"Why are you here?" he asked.

"To see Miss Poynton."

"And again why?"

Duncombe smiled. The boy's manner was so devoid of impertinence that he
found it impossible to resent his questions.

"Well," he said, "I came hoping to bring Miss Poynton some good news. I
had information which led me seriously to doubt whether the body which
has been found in the Seine is really her brother's."

The Vicomte sat up as though he had been shot.

"My friend," he said slowly, "I take some interest in you, but, upon my
word, I begin to believe that you will end your days in the Morgue
yourself. As you value your life, don't tell any one else what you have
told me. I trust that I am the first."

"I have told the Marquise," Duncombe answered, "and she has gone to find
out whether Miss Poynton will see me."

The Vicomte's patent boot tapped the floor slowly.

"You have told the Marquise," he repeated thoughtfully. "Stop! I must
think!"

There was a short silence. Then the Vicomte looked up.

"Very well," he said. "Now listen! Have you any confidence in me?"

"Undoubtedly," Duncombe answered. "The advice you gave me before was, I
kn