The introduction passed off easily, and the conversation was carried on in French, so as to be intelligible to Mrs. Belassis.
‘What lovely flowers, Miss Meredith!’ said their guest, not altogether without malice. ‘Are they from your garden?’
‘I had the honour of presenting them to Mademoiselle,’ answered the Italian gravely. ‘They came from the garden of my esteemed friend, M. Debenham.’
‘Oh, have you been to see Philip again?’ asked Meredith. ‘You go there very often. You must find a great deal to say to one another.’
‘I have not seen my friend to-day,’ answered the Signor; ‘but I took the liberty of helping myself to his flowers without leave.’
‘You have courage, Monsieur,’ remarked Mrs. Belassis, with rather a keen look.
‘That is a virtue much esteemed in your country—is it not so, Madame?’ he asked. ‘Or have I taken an unpardonable liberty?’
‘That is for my nephew to decide, not for me. No doubt you know best how far your friendship warrants such an act.’
‘Madame is right,’ answered he, meeting her searching gaze with one equally keen and significant. ‘I think I know how far I may go with my friend Filippo.’
She could not be certain of it, but she had an idea that more was meant than met the ear. Her suspicion that this man knew more of Philip’s private history than appeared, was gradually strengthened by what followed.