They passed slowly down the broad promenade, deserted now save for one or two loungers like themselves, and a few other furtive, hurrying figures. In front of them stretched an arc of glittering lights—the wonderful Bay of Mentone, with Bordighera on the distant sea-board; higher up, the twinkling lights from the villas built on the rocky hills. And at their feet the sea, calm, deep, blue, lapping the narrow belt of hard sand, scintillating with the reflection of a thousand lights; on the horizon a blood-red moon, only half emerged from the sea.
"Since we have met, Henry," Lady Hunterleys said at last, "there is something which I should like to say to you."
"Certainly!"
She glanced behind. Susanne had fallen discreetly into the rear. She was a new importation and she had no idea as to the identity of the tall, severe-looking Englishman who walked by her mistress's side.
"There is something going on in Monte Carlo," Lady Hunterleys went on, "which I cannot understand. Mr. Draconmeyer knows about it, I believe, although he is not personally concerned in it. But he will tell me nothing. I only know that for some reason or other your presence here seems to be an annoyance to certain people. Why it should be I don't know, but I want to ask you about it. Will you tell me the truth? Are you sure that you did not come here to spy upon me?"
"I certainly did not," Hunterleys answered firmly. "I had no idea that you were near the place. If I had—"
She turned her head. The smile was there once more and a queer, soft light in her eyes.
"If you had?" she murmured.
"My visit here, under the present circumstances, would have been more distasteful than it is," Hunterleys replied stiffly.
She bit her lip and turned away. When she resumed the conversation, her tone was completely changed.