Pargeter's phlegmatic chauffeur, for he wished
to remain silent. Madame de Lera's alteration of manner, her gentleness,
her implied sympathy, frightened him. He would rather have endured her
cold air of protest, of dislike.

And yet, as they drove swiftly back to Paris, taking, however, rather
longer on the return journey, for the country roads were now full of
animation and movement, Vanderlyn felt himself leaning, as against a
wall, on Madame de Lera's strong upright nature. She might dislike,
disapprove, even despise him,--but in this matter they would be one in
their desire to shield Peggy's fair name. He would have given much to be
able to still her evident anxiety, but that course was, so he felt,
forbidden to him; he had no right to share with another human being the
burden of his knowledge, of his awful grief. With a pang he reminded
himself that even Madame de Lera's state of suspense was preferable to a
knowledge of the truth.

At last they turned into the Bois de Boulogne, rushing through the leafy
roads at a high speed; a few moments more would see them in the
beautiful avenue where stood, isolated from its neighbours, the Villa
Pargeter, instinct with flamboyant luxury and that perfection only
achieved by the lavish use of money.

Tom Pargeter had a supreme contempt for the careless way in which the
French millionaires of his acquaintance conducted their lives. He liked
to get the full value of his money, and was proud of boasting to his
intimates that he kept the people who worked for him up to the top mark.
So it was that the sanded garden, even now blazing with flowers, which
surrounded the square marble villa, and separated it from the carriage
road and tan gallop, looked like a set piece, a vivid bit of scene
painting, in the bright morning sunlight.

When they came within sight of the wrought bronze gates of the villa,
Madame de Lera stood up in the car and leant over the front. She touched
Vanderlyn on the shoulder. "Then if we find that Mr. Pargeter is still
without any knowledge of his wife, I am to say that I know nothing--that
I was expecting her yesterday evening, and that she never arrived?"

"Yes," he answered, "that is, Madame, what I expect to hear you say. It
will then be for Mr. Pargeter to take what steps he judges proper."

As the powerful car swung through the gates, Vanderlyn saw that the
front-door was wide open, and that the English butler was waiting to
receive them; when the