in mind many suspicious
incidents connected with the well-dressed adventurer who had so easily
found an entree to Isabella's house.

Alphonse went, as I later learnt, straight to Hyde Park Street, and
found Isabella alone. For Madame de Clericy and Lucille were regular
in their attendance at a neighbouring Roman Catholic Church, whither
many Frenchwomen resorted at this time to pray for their friends and
country.

"Howard," said Alphonse, "has grossly insulted Mr. Devar. In my
country such an incident would not pass without bloodshed."

And he related, with considerable fire, the scene in the smoking-room
at the club.

"But it was Mr. Turner and not Dick who insulted Mr. Devar."

"That is true, but Howard planned the whole--it was a trick, a trap."

"A clever trap," said Isabella, with her incomprehensible smile. "I
did not know that Dick had the wit."

"Mr. Turner appears to have known Devar before," explained Alphonse,
"and seemed to have some cause for complaint against him, though I do
not believe all he said. And now Howard wantonly insults one of your
friends, a gentleman who has dined in this house. He takes too much
upon himself. If you will only say the word, Miss Gayerson, I will
quarrel with Howard myself."

And Isabella, as Alphonse subsequently told me, received this offer
with an ill-concealed smile.

"Dick is not afraid of the responsibility," she said, and did not
appear so resentful as her champion.

"But why did he do it?"

Isabella did not answer at once, and Alphonse, whose good heart
invariably tricked his temper, made a suggestion.

"Is it because he thought Mr. Devar no fit friend for yourself, Miss
Gayerson?"

Isabella laughed derisively before she did me another wrong.

"He does not trouble about me or my affairs," she answered. "No, it is
because Mr. Devar is too clever a person to be a welcome observer of
Dick's actions. Dick probably knows that Mr. Devar is an expert in
money matters, and less easy to deceive than yourself and a few
ignorant and trusting women."

"You mean in the matter of my fortune?"

"Yes," replied the friend of my childhood. "It is probable that Mr.
Devar suspects what others suspect. But you are so simple, Monsieur
Giraud!"

Alphonse shrugged his shoulders.

"It is not that--Mademoiselle," he said with his light laugh. "It is
that I am a fool."

Isabella was not looking at him, but at her quiet hands clasped
together on her lap.

"We all know