well in the way of a dwelling-place!"

The journalist's reflections were interrupted by the entrance of an
exceedingly elegant young lady.

Fandor rose and saluted this charming apparition.

IV

A CORDIAL RECEPTION

The journalist had naturally expected to see Monsieur de Naarboveck
enter the room: in his stead came this pretty girl.

"Be seated, I beg, Monsieur," she entreated.

"She is his daughter," thought Fandor. "I am given the go-by: the
diplomatist is not going to see me! I am sorry for that, but, on the
other hand, here is this delicious creature."

"You asked to see Monsieur de Naarboveck, did you not? It is for an
interview, no doubt. Monsieur de Naarboveck makes it a point of honour
never to get himself written about in the newspapers, therefore you
must not be surprised."...

The charming girl paused.

Fandor bowed and smiled. He said to himself:

"I shall have to listen for five minutes to this delightful person
assuring me that her father does not wish to talk; after that he will
come himself, and will tell me all I want to know."...

Thus he listened with divided attention to the pretty creature's
words. Then he interjected:

"Monsieur, your father."...

His companion smiled.

"Excuse me!" she said at once. "You have made a mistake: I am not
Mademoiselle Wilhelmine de Naarboveck, as you seem to imagine. I am
merely her companion: I dare add, a friend of the house. They call me
Mademoiselle Berthe."...

"Bobinette!" cried Fandor, almost in spite of himself. He immediately
regretted this too familiar interjection; but that young person did
not take offence.

"They certainly do call me that--my intimates, at least," she added
with a touch of malice.

Fandor made his apology in words at once playful and correct. He must
do all in his power to make himself agreeable, fascinating, that he
might get into the good graces of this girl; for she was the very
person whom it behooved him to interrogate regarding the mysterious
adventure, the outcome of which had been the death of Captain Brocq.

Bobinette had answered Fandor's polite remarks by protesting that she
was not in the least offended at his familiar mode of address.

"Alas, Monsieur," she had declared, in a tone slightly sad, "I am too
much afraid that my name, the pet name my friends use, will become
very quickly known to the public; for, I suppose, what you have come
to see M. Naarboveck about is to ask him for informati