"I mean it," she answered. "My uncle has a great mission to carry out here. You are making it more difficult for him."
"Felicia," I said, "I do not trust your uncle. I do not believe in his great mission. I think that you yourself are deceived."
She held her head up. Her eyes flashed angrily.
"As to that," she said, "I am the best judge. If my uncle is an adventurer, I am his niece. I am one with him. Please understand that. It seems to me that you are working against him, thinking that you are helping me. That is a mistake."
"Felicia," I said, "give me a little more of your confidence, and the rest will be easy."
"What is it that you wish to know?" she asked.
"For one thing," I answered, "tell me when your uncle left South America and when he arrived in Paris?"
"He had been in Paris ten days when you saw us first," she said, after a moment's hesitation.
"And are you sure that he came to you from South America?" I demanded.
"Certainly!" she answered.