subject himself
to any amount of inconvenience so that he might effect that which Lady
Ongar asked of him. He was not, however, called upon to endure any
special trouble or expense, as he heard nothing more from Count Pateroff
till he had been back in London for two or three weeks.

Lady Ongar's statement to him had been quite true. It had been even more
than true; for when she had written she had not even heard directly from
the count. She had learned by letter from another person that Count
Pateroff was in London, and had then communicated the fact to her
friend. This other person was a sister of the count's, who was now
living in London, one Madame Gordeloup--Sophie Gordeloup--a lady whom
Harry had found sitting in Lady Ongar's room when last he had seen her
in Bolton Street. He had not then heard her name; nor was he aware then,
or for some time subsequently, that Count Pateroff had any relative in
London.

Lady Ongar had been a fortnight in the country before she received
Madame Gordeloup's letter. In that letter the sister had declared
herself to be most anxious that her brother should see Lady Ongar. The
letter had been in French, and had been very eloquent--more eloquent in
its cause than any letter with the same object could have been if
written by an Englishwoman in English; and the eloquence was less
offensive than it might, under all concurrent circumstances, have been
had it reached Lady Ongar in English. The reader must not, however,
suppose that the letter contained a word that was intended to support a
lover's suit. It was very far indeed from that, and spoke of the count
simply as a friend; but its eloquence went to show that nothing that had
passed should be construed by Lady Ongar as offering any bar to a fair
friendship. What the world said!--Bah! Did not she know--she,
Sophie--and did not her friend know--her friend Julie--that the world
was a great liar? Was it not even now telling wicked venomous lies about
her friend Julie? Why mind what the world said, seeing that the world
could not be brought to speak one word of truth? The world indeed! Bah!

But Lady Ongar, though she was not as yet more than half as old as
Madame Gordeloup, knew what she was about almost as well as that lady
knew what Sophie Gordeloup was doing. Lady Ongar had known the count's
sister in France and Italy, having seen much of her in one of those
sudden intimacies to which English people are subject when abroad; and
she h