learned that he was not at home. My visit is really to
Miss Poynton. I should be exceedingly obliged if you would allow me the
privilege of a few minutes' conversation with her."

The forehead of the Marquise was wrinkled with surprise. She stood
amidst all the wonders of her magnificent drawing-room like a dainty
Dresden doll--petite, cold, dressed to perfection. Her manner and her
tone were alike frigid.

"But, Monsieur," she said, "that is wholly impossible. Mademoiselle is
too thoroughly upset by the terrible news in the paper this morning. It
is unheard of. Monsieur may call again if he is a friend of Mademoiselle
Poynton's--say, in a fortnight."

"Marquise," he said, "it is necessary that I see Mademoiselle at once. I
am the bearer of good news."

The Marquise looked at him steadily.

"Of good news, Monsieur?"

"Certainly!"

"But how can that be?"

"If Madame will give me the opportunity," he said, "I should only be too
glad to explain--to Mademoiselle Poynton."

"If, indeed, it should be good news," the Marquise said slowly, "it were
better broken gradually to Mademoiselle. I will take her a message."

"Permit me to see her, Marquise," he begged. "My errand is indeed
important."

She shook her head.

"It is not," she said, "according to the _convenances_. Mademoiselle is
under my protection. I have not the honor of knowing you, Monsieur."

Duncombe raised his eyebrows.

"But you remember calling at my house in Norfolk, and bringing Miss
Poynton away," he said.

She stared at him calmly.

"The matter," she said, "has escaped my memory. I do not love your
country, Monsieur, and my rare visits there do not linger in my mind."

"Your husband," he reminded her, "asked me to visit you here."

"My husband's friends," she replied, "are not mine."

The calm insolence of her manner towards him took him aback. He had
scarcely expected such a reception.

"I can only apologize, Madame," he said with a bow, "for intruding. I
will await your husband's return in the hall."

He bowed low, and turned to leave the room. He had almost reached the
door before she stopped him.

"Wait!"

He turned round. Her voice was different.

"Come and sit down here," she said, pointing to a sofa by her side.

He obeyed her, thoroughly amazed. She leaned back amongst the cushions
and looked at him thoughtfully.

"How is it that you--an Englishman--speak French so well?" she asked.

"I lived in Paris for some yea