his arrangement might be somewhat
inconvenient in his bachelor establishment, he had been unable to
resist the entreaties of the English lawyers, who felt that no one was
more fitted for such onerous duties than himself, seeing that he was
English and so obviously my friend."

"The scoundrel! The blackguard!" I exclaimed in an unguarded outburst
of fury. . . .

"Your pardon, Mademoiselle," I added more calmly, seeing that the
lovely creature was gazing at me with eyes full of astonishment not
unmixed with distrust, "I am anticipating. Am I to understand, then,
that you have made your home with this Mr. Farewell?"

"Yes, Monsieur, at number sixty-five Rue des Pyramides."

"Is he a married man?" I asked casually.

"He is a widower, Monsieur."

"Middle-aged?"

"Quite elderly, Monsieur."

I could have screamed with joy. I was not yet forty myself.

"Why!" she added gaily, "he is thinking of retiring from business--he
is, as I said, a commercial traveller--in favour of his nephew, M.
Adrien Cazales."

Once more I had to steady myself against the table. The room swam
round me. One hundred thousand francs!--a lovely creature!--an
unscrupulous widower!--an equally dangerous young nephew. I rose and
tottered to the window. I flung it wide open--a thing I never do save
at moments of acute crises.

The breath of fresh air did me good. I returned to my desk, and was
able once more to assume my habitual dignity and presence of mind.

"In all this, Mademoiselle," I said in my best professional manner, "I
do not gather how I can be of service to you."

"I am coming to that, Monsieur," she resumed after a slight moment of
hesitation, even as an exquisite blush suffused her damask cheeks.
"You must know that at first I was very happy in the house of my new
guardian. He was exceedingly kind to me, though there were times
already when I fancied . . ."

She hesitated--more markedly this time--and the blush became deeper on
her cheeks. I groaned aloud.

"Surely he is too old," I suggested.

"Much too old," she assented emphatically.

Once more I would have screamed with joy had not a sharp pang, like a
dagger-thrust, shot through my heart.

"But the nephew, eh?" I said as jocosely, as indifferently as I could.
"Young M. Cazales? What?"

"Oh!" she replied with perfect indifference. "I hardly ever see him."

Unfortunately it were not seemly for an avocat and the _agent
confidentiel_ of half the Courts of Europe to e