“He is Annabel’s husband,” she reminded him.
“Annabel!” He looked at her thoughtfully. “It is rather odd,” he said, “but I always thought that your name was Annabel and hers Anna.”
“Many other people,” she remarked, “have made the same mistake.”
“Again,” he said, “I am going to be impertinent. I never met your sister in Paris, but I heard about her more than once. She is not in the least like the descriptions of her.”
“She has changed a good deal,” Anna admitted.
“There is some mystery about you both,” he exclaimed, with sudden earnestness. “No, don’t interrupt me. Why may I not be your friend? Somehow or other I feel that you have been driven into a false position. You represent to me an enigma, the solution of which has become the one desire of my life. I want to give you warning that I have set myself to solve it. To-morrow I am going to Paris.”
She seemed unmoved, but she did not look at him.
“To Paris! But why? What do you hope to discover there?”
“I do not know,” he answered, “but I am going to see David Courtlaw.”
Then she looked up at him with frightened eyes.