"Yes? I am very interested. Will you tell me what they are?"
"By all means," I answered. "I refer to the fact that though no one has come forward openly to claim the child, indirect efforts to induce her to leave us are continually being made by persons who seem to desire anonymity. Whenever she has been alone in the streets she has been accosted under various pretexts."
The Archduchess was politely surprised.
"But surely you are aware," she remarked, "of the source of some at least of these attempts?"
"Madame Richard," I said, "the principal of the convent where Isobel was educated, seems particularly anxious to have her return there."
The Archduchess nodded her head slowly.
"Well," she said, "is that so much to be wondered at? Even we who are of the world might consider—you must pardon me, Mr. Greatson, if I speak frankly—the girl's present position an undesirable one. How do you suppose, then, that the principal of a convent boarding-school, whose sister, I believe, is a nun, would be likely to regard the same thing?"
"Your Highness knows, then, of the convent?" I remarked.
The Archduchess lifted her eyebrows lightly. Her gesture seemed intended to convey to me the fact that she had not sent for me to answer my questions. I remained unabashed, however, and waited for her reply. Several curious facts were beginning to group themselves together in my mind.
"I have heard of the place," she said coldly. "I believe it to be an excellent institution. I sent for you, Mr. Greatson, not, however, to discuss such matters, but solely to ask for information as to the child's parentage. It seems that you are unable to give me this."