“No,” I answered, breathlessly; “I have not seen her. Where is she?”
He turned and stared at me.
“Don't you know where she is?” he asked, slowly.
“I know nothing. I have been told that she—or someone very like her—is singing in a Paris church. Heathcroft told me that and then we were interrupted. I—What is the matter?”
He was staring at me more oddly than ever. There was the strangest expression on his face.
“In a church!” he repeated. “Heathcroft told you—”
“He told me that he had seen a girl, whose resemblance to Miss Morley was so striking as to be marvelous, singing in a Paris church. He called it an abbey, but of course it couldn't be that. Do you know anything more definite? What did he tell you?”
He did not answer.
“In a church!” he said again. “You thought—Oh, good heavens!”
He began to laugh. It was not a pleasant laugh to hear. Moreover, it angered me.