do you take her if she does not desire to
go?"

Mordaunt raised his brows a little.

"You will pardon me," Bertrand added quickly, "but it occurs to me that
possibly she may prefer to remain at home. And if that were the case you
would not, I hope, consider my presence here as an obstacle, for"--again
he flashed a swift look across--"it is not my intention to remain."

"What are your intentions?" Mordaunt asked.

Bertrand shrugged his shoulders. "I do not know yet. Circumstances will
decide. But it is certain that I can trespass no more upon your kindness.
I have already accepted too much from you--more than I can ever hope to
repay. Moreover"--he paused--"I do not wish to inconvenience you, and
since I cannot accompany you to France--" he paused again, and finally
decided to say no more.

"Chris will go with me in any case," said Mordaunt quietly. "We have
already arranged that. You would cause no inconvenience to anyone by
staying here. In fact, it would be to my advantage."

"To your advantage!" Bertrand echoed the words sharply, as if in some
fashion they hurt him; and then, "But no," he said with decision. "It has
never been to your advantage to employ me. You have done it from the
kindness of your heart, but it would have been better for you if you had
entrusted your affairs to a man more capable. And for that reason I am
going to ask you to find another secretary as soon as possible, one who
will perform his duties faithfully and merit his pay."

"Is that the only reason?" Mordaunt asked unexpectedly.

There fell a sudden silence. Bertrand, with bent head, appeared to be
closely examining the leather on which his fingers still drummed an
uneasy tattoo. At last, "It is the only reason which I have to give you,"
he said, his voice very low.

"It is not a very sound one," Mordaunt remarked.

Again that quick shrug of the shoulders, and silence. Several moments
passed. Then with an abrupt movement Bertrand rose, laid aside his
cigarette, which had gone out, and seated himself at the writing-table.

A pile of letters lay upon it that had arrived by the evening post. He
began to turn them over, and presently took up a paper-cutter and deftly
slit them open one by one.

Mordaunt sat and smoked as one lost in thought. Finally, after a long
silence, he looked up and spoke.

"Why this sudden hurry to dissolve partnership, Bertrand?" he asked, with
his kindly smile. "Is it this Rodolphe affair that has unsett