"Madame Dumois! This is a fortunate meeting. I was just on my way to call upon you, although I rather fancied you could not resist the lure of this wonderful spring day!"
"It isn't the weather which has brought me out, young man." She spoke dryly, but her sharp eyes softened and her smile was one of unalloyed welcome. "When you reach my age you will remember your rheumatism and think twice before you venture out in this wonderful humid atmosphere. You have news?"
He shook his head.
"If you have an engagement, and I am detaining you——" he began weakly, raging within himself in self-contempt at his irresolution, but the old lady placed her hand upon his arm.
"No, Mr. Ross. I have no interests which supersede in importance the case on which you are working. Come back to the house and tell me why you wished to see me. Where is the young woman you mentioned? You have not lost sight of her?"
Her voice trembled with eagerness and the angular gloved hand upon his coat sleeve trembled too. It was the first sign of emotion she had betrayed in the detective's presence, but whether anxiety or vindictiveness actuated it, he was at a loss to determine.
"The resemblance can only be a casual one, on the strength of your description." He evaded the direct question. "Then, too, remember that the young woman whom I have seen bears a mark upon her face. That would seem to prove my mistake, would it not?"
They had turned and were walking together up the path which led to the house and for a short space the old lady maintained silence. When she replied her voice was low, but quite steady once more.
"But as you suggested it might be a fresh scar." She gave him a shrewd sidelong glance. "If my description of her appearance were so casual, and the mark would seem to disprove it, you must have surer grounds on which to base your theory."
He flashed one of his rare, winning smiles upon her.