e I--I have had no answer to a letter I wrote him."

"What misfortune!"

The concierge regarded Gillian with a pair of shrewd, gimlet eyes while
a stream of inquiry and comment issued from her lips. Madame was the
sister of monsieur, perhaps? Truly, they resembled each other! One could
see at a glance. No, not a sister? Ah, a friend, then? And there had
been no answer to a letter! But monsieur had left an address. Oh, yes.
And all letters were forwarded. She herself saw to that.

At last Gillian managed to stem the torrent of garrulity and interposed
a question concerning the telegram she had sent.

A telegram! Now that was another affair altogether. Yes, the concierge
remembered the telegram. She had opened it to see if it were of life or
death importance, in which case she would have, of course, telegraphed
its contents to monsieur at his present address.

Gillian was nearly crying with impatience as the woman's voluble tongue
ran on complacently.

"Then you did send it on?" she managed to interpolate at last.

The letter--yes. Not, of course, the telegram. That would have been a
needless expense seeing that monsieur would already have had the letter,
since all the letters were sent on. _All!_ She, Madame Ribot, could
vouch for that.

At the end of half an hour Gillian succeeded in extracting Michael's
address from amid the plethora of words and, bidding the voluble
concierge _bon jour_, she and Storran beat a masterly retreat.

It appeared that Michael had been commissioned to paint the portrait of
some Italian society beauty and had gone to Rome. Gillian screwed up her
small face resolutely.

"I shall go to Rome!" she announced succinctly. There was a definite
defiance in her tone, and Storran concealed a smile.

"Of course you will," he replied composedly. "Just as well I came with
you, isn't it?" he added with great cheerfulness.

Her expression relaxed.

"You really are rather a nice person, Dan," she allowed graciously. "I
was horribly afraid you'd suggest wiring Michael again, or something
silly like that. I'm not going to trust to anything of that kind."

Accordingly, the only wire despatched was one to Lady Arabella,
informing her as to their movements, and a few hours later found Dan
and Gillian rushing across Europe as fast as the thunderous whirl of the
express could take them. They travelled day and night, and it was a
very weary Gillian who at last opened her eyes to the golden sunshine o