"She is not," I responded briefly, elated that I could do so truthfully.
"Where is she?"
"That I can not tell."
"Can not tell!" he repeated musingly. "Surely that is a very strange answer. Perhaps, at least, you will tell me who she is?"
"I am not at liberty to tell that either," I replied firmly.
"Mystery on mystery!" he cried, with an impatient gesture. "What in the name of common-sense—if you will forgive my bluntness—is the purpose of this mystification?"
"The mystification arises," I declared, "from the fact that I am solemnly pledged to keep both her identity and her whereabouts a secret."
"From whom?"
The question was a shrewd one. I hesitated how to answer it; but at last I said: