“Did Doctor Bayliss tell you?”
I hesitated. So she HAD seen Bayliss and spoken with him.
“No,” I answered, after a moment, “he did not tell me, exactly. But I had heard that someone who resembled you was singing here in Paris.”
“And you followed me. In spite of my letter begging you, for my sake, not to try to find me. Did you get that letter?”
“Yes, I got it.”
“Then why did you do it? Oh, WHY did you?”
For the first time there was a break in her voice. We were standing before the door. The street, it was little more than an alley, was almost deserted, but I felt it was not the place for explanations. I wanted to get her away from there, as far from that dreadful “Abbey” as possible. I took her arm.
“Come,” I said, “I will tell you as we go. Come with me now.”
She freed her arm.
“I am not coming with you,” she said. “Why did you come here?”