“Well,” replied the Count, “he is not coming here until I tell him that you are ready to receive him. He has promised to be guided by me in the matter.”
“That is strange. I do not understand you.”
“Well, you will when I tell you who he is.”
Bertha was in a quandary. What could it mean? Who would make a promise to Count Mont d’Oro that he would not come to see her except with the Count’s permission? It must be Jack—and yet, she hesitated to mention his name.
The Count thought the time had come to relieve her suspense.
“My companion,” he said, “was your guardian, Mr. Thomas Glynne.”
Bertha started to her feet. The smile faded from her face and a look of apprehension, almost terror, succeeded it.
“But you will not tell him where I am?” she cried, appealingly.
“Oh, he knows where you are,” replied the Count, “but I imagined from what I heard that you were not very desirous of seeing him, so I made him promise that he would not come here until I told him he might.”
“That was very good of you, Count. I do not wish to see him. You will do all you can to keep him away from here, won’t you?”