Mudara bowed to perfection, and then, going forward, presumed to put his hand on the Ambassador's arm.
“Your Excellency,” said he, “I have some important news. On the whole it is gratifying. It may make us cynical, but it is absurd to expect human nature to be Divine. Mrs. Parflete has been at Orange's lodgings this afternoon.”
“You don't mean it?”
“Indeed, it is too true. When he moved to Vigo Street, I was fortunate enough to secure a room in the same house immediately under his.”
“Good!”
“I was sitting at my table, with the door just ajar, when I heard, at six o'clock, a rustle of silk skirts on the stairs. I peeped out. I saw a tall lady, thickly veiled, following our landlord, Dunton, across the landing. She caught sight of me, and started violently.”
“Was it Mrs. Parflete?”
“I could swear” he answered slowly, “that it was Mrs. Parflete.... She reached Orange's door; Dunton tapped; Orange came out; the lady and he exchanged glances; they entered the room together, and he closed the door. Three-quarters of an hour later they came down the stairs and left the house.”
“You followed them?”
“Alas! I couldn't. I was not alone. Parflete himself was with me. I dared not trust him out of my sight. He, following his custom, grew faint at the sight of Madame——“