A curious expression, half-defiant, half-cunning, came over the servant's face, as he replied:
"Monsieur coming. He sent me ahead with light baggage. He detained at customs."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, disappointed. "When will he be here?"
"He come presently—perhaps quarter of an hour."
"How is your master?"
"He very well, except his eyes—they bother him a leetle."
Helen stared at him in alarm.
"His eyes," she exclaimed. "What is the matter with his eyes?"
The valet avoided her direct gaze, and, shifting uneasily on his feet, began to fuss with the leather bags he was carrying. Awkwardly he said:
"Didn't madame hear?"