I understand that it is an aunt of Madame
Delcasse--the former Madame Delcasse--who is leaving this money?"

"Not of Madame but of Monsieur Delcasse," McLean informed him.

"Ah!... That accounts ... But in that case, then, there need be no
concern in France over my daughter's marriage...." He turned his
round eyes from one to the other a moment.

"There is no Mademoiselle Delcasse."

"Sir?" said Ryder sharply.

"There is no Mademoiselle Delcasse," repeated the pasha, his eyes
frankly enlivened.

"But--we have just been speaking--you cannot mean to say--"

"We have been speaking of my daughter--the daughter of the former
Madame Delcasse."

Smilingly he looked upon them. "A pity that we did not understand
each other. But you appear to know so much--and I supposed that you
knew that, too, that the daughter of Monsieur Delcasse was dead."

Neither of the young men spoke. McLean looked politely attentive;
Ryder's face maintained that look of concentration which guarded the
fluctuations of his feelings.

"It was many years ago," the pasha murmured, putting down his coffee
cup and selecting another cigarette. "Not long after her mother's
marriage to me.... A very charming little girl--I was positively
attached to her," Tewfick added reminiscently.

"Well, well, well, what a pity now," said McLean very slowly.
"This will be a great disappointment.... And so the present
mademoiselle--"

"Is my daughter."

McLean was silent. Ryder could hardly trust himself to speak.

"What did she die of?" he asked at last, in a voice whose edged
quality brought the pasha's glance to him with a flash of hostility
behind its veil.

But he answered calmly enough. "Of the fever, monsieur.... She was
never strong."

"And her grave... I should like to make a report."

"It was in the south ... desert burial, I am afraid. You must know
that the little one was hardly a true believer for our cemetery."

"And you would say that she was only five or six years old?" Ryder
persisted.

The pasha nodded.

"I should like to get as near as possible to the date if it is not
too much trouble.... The father died about fifteen years ago and the
mother was married to you soon after?"

"Really, monsieur, you--"

Tewfick was frankly restive.

"I know nothing of the father," he said sullenly. "And as to the
child's death--how can one recall after these years? In one, two
years after she came to me--one does not grave these things upon th