“That also is a most extraordinary story, Jean. Taken with this other fairy tale which you have told me to-night, you almost make me feel that we are back in the great old days which this country once saw. But alas!”
“As you say, Monsieur, alas!”
“Now as to that ruffian who stole the gentleman’s yacht,” I resumed. “Has he reflected? Has he indeed made his way to the Gulf? Why, he might even be hiding here in the city somewhere.”
“Ah, hardly that, and if so, he well may look out for the law.”
“I think a sherbet would be excellent for the lady now, Jean,” I ventured, whereat he departed. I turned over the paper and showed Helena her own portrait on the front page, four columns deep and set in such framing of blackfaced scare type as made me blush for my own sins.
“It is an adventure, Helena!” said I. “Had you not been far the most beautiful woman in this restaurant to-night, and had not Jean been all eyes for you, he otherwise would have looked at this paper rather than at you. Then he would have looked at us both and must have seen the truth.”
“It is an adventure,” said she slowly, her color heightening; and later, “You carried it off well, Harry.”
I bowed to her across the table. “Need was to act quickly, for even this vile newspaper cut is a likeness of you. One glance from Jean, which may come at any moment later, Helena, and your parole will be needless further.”
“I confess I wished to test you. It was wrong, foolish of me, Harry.”
“You have been tested no less, Helena, to-night. And I have found you a gentle high-born lady, as I had always known you to be. Noblesse oblige, my dear, and you have proved it so to-night. Any time from now until twelve you need no more than raise a finger—I might not even see you do so—and you might go free. Why do you not?”