“I had supposed that there might be,” he replied. “Am I to understand that your lips are sealed out of consideration for this other person?”
“Not entirely, sir, but in part, yes.”
“Your sentiments are most elevating, Miss Challoner. But this punctiliousness is quite needless, believe me. Lord Vidal’s exploits have never been attended by any secrecy.”
She jumped, and her eyes flew to his face in a look of startled interrogation. He smiled. “I had the felicity of meeting your esteemed grandparent at Newmarket not many days since,” he said. “Upon hearing that I was bound for France he requested me to inquire for you on my way through Paris.”
“He knew?” she said blankly.
“Without doubt he knew.”
She covered her face with her hands. “My mother must have told him,” she said almost inaudibly. “It is worse, then, than I thought.”
He put his wineglass down, and pushed his chair a little way back from the table. “I beg you will not distress yourself, Miss Challoner. The role of confidant is certainly new to me, but I trust I know the rules.”
She got up and went over to the fire, trying to collect her thoughts, and to compose her natural agitation. The gentleman at the table took snuff, and waited for her to return. She did so in a minute or two, with a certain brisk determination that characterized her. She was rather pale, but completely mistress of herself. “If you know that I — left England with Lord Vidal, sir, I am more than ever grateful for your hospitality to-night, and an explanation is beyond doubt due to you,” she said. “I do not know how much you have learned of me, but since no one in England knows the whole truth, I fear you may have been quite misinformed on several points.”
“It is more than likely,” agreed her host. “May I suggest that you tell me the whole story? I have every intention of helping you out of your somewhat difficult situation, but I desire to know exactly why you left England with Lord Vidal, and why I find you to-day, apparently alone and friendless.”