‘Come, mademoiselle. ’ ‘I’m afraid you are right. I tore the marriage certificate from his pocket and burnt it. I meant to lie to you. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. He did not know what her game was, although he had a shrewd suspicion that she had been co-opted into it by her supposed husband, the soi-disant Valade. If you met her you would, I am certain, think her as fine as I do. ‘But that will do for a start. "What do you want?" he asked, in a gruff voice.
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