Henrietta jumped up, and exclaimed,—
“You have been to see my father?”
“No, madam. A week ago already, Count Ville-Handry left his palace.”
A mad thought, the hope that her father might have separated from his wife, crossed Henrietta’s mind.
“And the countess,” she asked,—“the Countess Sarah?”
“She has gone with her husband. They live in Peletier Street, in a modest apartment just above the office of the Pennsylvania Petroleum Company. Sir Thorn and Mrs. Brian are there also. They have only kept two servants,—Ernest, the count’s valet, and a certain Clarissa.”
The name of the vile creature whose treachery had been one of the principal causes of Henrietta’s misfortunes did not strike her ear.
“How could my father ever be induced to leave his home?” she asked.
“He sold it, madam, ten days ago.”
“Great God! My father must be ruined!”