“You want to know the result of my mission, I suppose,” she remarked, pleasantly. “Well, I am afraid you will call it a failure. The moment I mentioned the man’s name the Princess stopped me.
“‘You mustn’t talk to me about that man,’ she said. ‘Don’t ask why, only you must not talk about him.’
“‘I don’t want to,’ I assured her; ‘but the girl.’”
“What did she say about the girl?” Densham asked.
“Well she did tell me something about her,” Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell said, slowly, “but, unfortunately, it will not help your friend. She only told me when I had promised unconditionally and upon my honour to keep her information a profound secret. So I am sorry, Francis, but even to you——”
“Of course, you must not repeat it,” Densham said, hastily. “I would not ask you for the world; but is there not a single scrap of information about the man or the girl, who he is, what he is, of what family or nationality the girl is—anything at all which I can take to Harcutt?”
Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell looked straight at him with a faint smile at the corners of her lips.
“Yes, there is one thing which you can tell Mr. Harcutt,” she said.
Densham drew a little breath. At last, then!
“You can tell him this,” Mrs. Thorpe-Satchell said, slowly and impressively, “that if it is the girl, as I suppose it is, in whom he is interested, that the very best thing he can do is to forget that he has ever seen her. I cannot tell you who she is or what, although I know. But we are old friends, Francis, and I know that my word will be sufficient for you. You can take this from me as the solemn truth. Your friend had better hope for the love of the Sphinx, or fix his heart upon the statue of Diana, as think of that girl.”