‘Madame Humbert,’ he announced with as much confidence as if the great Thérèse had intrusted him with her card.
On the previous night Madame Humbert had enjoyed the superiority over me, I confess it. This morning the tables were turned, and I had brought off the first coup.
My visitor started as she heard her name, and threw up her veil with a gesture of astonishment and indignation combined.
‘Madame Humbert!’ I cried, pretending to be equally surprised. Then, as the secretary retired, I added—‘This publicity, is it quite prudent, my dear madame?’
Thérèse gave me a glance in which I read something like fear, as she dropped into a seat.
‘But I don’t understand, Monsieur V——. I don’t know how that young man learned who I was.’
I shrugged my shoulders.
‘It is the business of my staff to penetrate mysteries, madame. But you may depend on my secretary’s discretion. It will be awkward if the police have followed you here, however. If M. Rattache were to learn that we had been in communication, I might be obliged to withdraw from the case.’
Madame Humbert clasped her hands in agitation. Her demeanour was no longer that of the cold, masterful woman who had conversed with me in Baron Y——’s smoking-room.
‘Listen, monsieur! Is it possible that you do not guess the object of my visit?’