hur. Take her out in a car, if you want to.
Who's this?"

We turned towards the door. Was it the ghost of Madame Richard who stood
there pale, cold, and in the sombre garb of her sisterhood?

"This lady has been before," Mabane said, placing a chair for her. "She
has come from the convent, and she brought a letter from Madame
Richard."

"You are Mr. Greatson?" she asked.

I bowed, and took the letter which she handed to me. I tore it open. It
contained a few lines only.

"SIR,--

"I have been informed of the unfortunate event which has placed
under your protection one of my late pupils, Isobel de Sorrens. We
are willing and anxious to receive her back here, and I have sent
the bearer to accompany her upon the journey. She will also defray
what expenses her sojourn with you may have occasioned.

"I am, sir, yours respectfully,

"EMILY RICHARD."

I put the letter back in the envelope and laid it upon the table.

"I have seen Madame Richard," I said. "The child will remain with us for
the present."

The cold, dark eyes met mine searchingly.

"But, monsieur," the woman said, "how can that be? You are not a
relative, you surely have no claim----"

"It will save time, perhaps," I interrupted, "if I explain that I have
discussed all these matters with Madame Richard, and the decision which
I have come to is final. The child remains here."

The woman looked at me steadfastly.

"Madame Richard will not be satisfied with that decision," she said.
"You will be forced to give her up."

"And why," I asked, "should a penniless orphan, as I understand Isobel
is, be of so much interest to Madame Richard?"

The woman watched me still, and listened to my words as though seeking
to discover in them some hidden meaning. Then she leaned a little
towards me.

"Can I speak with you alone, monsieur?" she said.

"These are my friends," I answered, "from whom I have no secrets."

"None?"

"None," I repeated.

She hesitated. Then, although the door was fast closed, she dropped her
voice.

"You know--who the child is," she said softly.

"Upon my word, I do not," I answered. "I saw the man, under whose care
she was, shot, and I brought her here because she was friendless. I know
no more about her."

"That," she said quietly, "is hard to believe."

"I have no interest in your belief or disbelief," I answered. "Pardon me
if I add, madame, that I have no interest in the contin