"He is dead," said the girl gently.
"But he lived too long. Years ago I would have killed him had he not run from me."
"You knew him years ago?"
"And never knew anything but ill of him. It was because of my knowledge of him that I stayed on at Gramberg. That is part of the story I have yet to tell you."
"When?" she asked eagerly.
"To-morrow. I would tell it you now, but we are close to the house."
And a few minutes later we turned in at the lodge gates, and were winding our way through the high shrubs which lined the drive for more than half the way to the mansion.
When we reached the house an old motherly woman came forward to receive Minna and take her to her rooms.
The girl stood a moment, and put both her hands into mine, with a gesture she had used once just after my arrival at Gramberg. She was thinking of it, too.
"Do you remember my telling you at Gramberg how I trusted you?" she asked, leaving her hands in mine and looking into my eyes.