"But it has been a wicked conspiracy!" she cried. "Monsieur here," she added, clutching his arm, "was drugged and poisoned. Since then he has been like a child. He was left to die, but I found him, I brought him here And meanwhile, that wicked brother has been playing his part,—using even his name."
I went to Felicia.
"Felicia," I said, "it is you who can clear this up. The time has come when you must speak."
Felicia was standing with her hands clasped to her head, looking from one to the other of the speakers as though she were trying in vain to follow the sense of what they said. At my words she turned to me a little piteously. She was beginning to understand, but she had not realized the whole truth yet.
"The lady over there," she said, pointing to my lady of the turquoises, "has spoken the truth. Uncle Ferdinand was ill when he arrived in Paris. He stayed with us—that is, my uncle Maurice and I—in the Rue d'Hauteville. He seemed to get worse all the time, and he was worried because of some business in London which he could not attend to. Then it was arranged that my Uncle Maurice should take his place and come over here, only no one was to know that it was not Ferdinand himself. It was secret business for the Brazilian Government. I do not know what it was about, but it was very important."
"Your Uncle Maurice, then," I said, "was the uncle who lived in Paris—whom you knew best?"
She nodded.
"Yes! I have had to call him Ferdinand over here. It was hateful, but they all said that it was necessary."
A motor drew up outside. The Chinese ambassador stepped out with more haste than I had ever seen him use, and by his side a man in dark clothes and silk hat, who from the first I suspected to be a bank manager. The Brazilian minister welcomed them on the threshold.
"You are looking for Delora?" he exclaimed.