“No, Fräulein—she is a Frenchwoman brought to Germany against her will.”
He observed her narrowly as he spoke. Her face remained calm. His words, evidently, awakened no latent memory in her.
“How dreadful!” she said. Her rich voice vibrated on a note of unfeigned sympathy which was, nevertheless, impersonal. “Poor man! And he does not know where she is!”
“He has no idea, Fräulein,” replied Chassaigne. “But let us leave this painful subject. Will you not keep us company for a few minutes? We are strangers in a strange land.” With a gallant courtesy, which, however, omitted to wait for her assent, he took her right hand and led her to a chair. His quick eyes noted the three moles upon her wrist. She seated herself almost automatically. He registered, in support of his theory, her easy susceptibility to a quietly insistent suggestion. “Will you not tell us what is most worth seeing in Mainz?” he asked, smilingly.
She looked up at him.
“Alas, mein Herr, I cannot!” she said. “I have never been in the city.”
“Indeed?” He expressed mild but courteous surprise. “Perhaps you have only recently come to live here yourself?”
“Yes—er—no!” She smiled at her own confusion. “I mean we have been here some time—but we travelled so much before we came here—that I—I have really lost count——”
Chassaigne made a reassuring little gesture which relegated the matter to a limbo of indifference.
“You travelled with Doctor Breidenbach, I presume?” he asked, casually.