in way."

"Many thanks!"

"Well, then, it's about my stepmother--Therese. Gad, how that woman
does rub me the wrong way!--A little while ago I came back from the
courts, earlier than usual; it began to rain. I went up to my room to
change, and, what do you think? She was there."

"Lady Clifford in your room? Why?"

"You may well ask. She has never been near it before, to my knowledge;
there's no reason why she should, especially as she's not particularly
fond of me."

"What was she doing there?"

"I'm blessed if I know. When I threw open the door she was in the
middle of the room, I should say on the way out. She looked startled,
naturally. Then she smiled and said she hoped I didn't mind, that she
had slipped in, thinking I was still away, to get a book out of my
bookcase."

"So that was it, was it?"

"Wait till I tell you. I said, certainly, go ahead and help herself,
and she kneeled down in front of the bookshelves and took out a book.
I should have thought no more about it--only I happened to see the
book."

"What was it?"

"You'd never guess. It was _L'Abbe Constantin_."

"_L'Abbe Constantin!_"

"Yes. Can you see Therese reading a thing like that, a sweet little
sentimental tale they give young girls in an elementary French course?'

"Oh, so you think that was an excuse?"

"What do you think? I know it was. The point is, why should she have
to invent an excuse for being in my room? No doubt she had a perfectly
good reason for being there, why not say so? I daresay she likes to
see herself in my mirror; it's in rather a good light. Something of
that sort. What exasperates me is that she should think it worth a
lie. Now I shall go on bothering my head as to why she really was
there. I shall be wondering whether she came to read my letters, or
something absurd like that."

He laughed lightly, his good nature restored.

"I suppose," said Esther slowly, "that there are people whose minds
work in devious ways, who'd rather not give their reasons for doing
things."

"You may be right. It doesn't matter a hoot what she does. Oh, by the
way--did you happen to see these items in the Paris _Daily Mail_? They
may interest you."

From the depths of a side pocket he fished up a folded newspaper, which
he handed to her.

"Read these," he said, pointing to a couple of bits in the social
column, juxtaposed.

Following his finger, Esther read aloud:

"Arrivals at Claridge's incl