"I do not know that you have offended me at all," the girl replied, still looking away from him. "After all your kindness to me, I should be very ungrateful if I were to treat you so."
"But there can be no doubt you are offended," Browne replied. "I could see from the expression on your face, when I met you on the boulevard just now, that you were annoyed with me for being there."
"I must confess I was surprised," she answered; "still, I certainly did not wish you to think I was annoyed."
Browne thereupon took fresh heart, and resolved upon a bold plunge. "But you were not pleased?" he said, and as he said it he watched her to see what effect his words produced. She still kept her face turned away. "Don't you think it was a little unkind of you to leave London so suddenly without either saying good-bye or giving the least warning of your intentions?" he continued, his spirits rising with every word he uttered.
"I was not certain that we were to leave so soon," the girl replied. "It was not until yesterday morning that we found it would be necessary for us to set off at once. But how did you know that we had left?"
Browne fell into the trap unheedingly.
"Because I called at your lodgings an hour after you had left, in the hope of seeing you," he answered promptly. "The servant who opened the door to me informed me that you and Madame Bernstein had departed for Paris. You may imagine my surprise."
"But if you were there within an hour of our leaving, what train did you catch?" she inquired, with a simplicity that could scarcely have failed to entrap him.
"The eleven o'clock express from Charing Cross viâ Dover and Calais," he replied.
"You admit, then, that your important business in Paris was to follow us?" she answered, and as she said it Browne realised what a mistake he had made. She rose without another word, and made as if she would leave the Gardens. Browne also sprang to his feet, and laid his hand upon her arm as if to detain her.