“What letter do you mean, Edwin?” asked Mrs. Harcourt.
“Mr. Wilkins wishes to produce one of his plays in London, and I thought the Earl might be of some service to him. You don’t object to my writing?”
“Oh, not at all. The Earl thinks a great deal of you,” she added with an inflection of pride in her voice.
“By the way, Edwin,” said Mrs. Harcourt after her visitor was gone, “does this Mr. Wilkins know something of your past history?”
“Yes, mother.”
“Then request him not to speak of it to any one. I am perhaps foolishly sensitive, but I don’t wish any one to suspect that you are not my real son.”
“Your wishes shall be respected, mother.”
When Mrs. Harcourt was alone she said to herself: “The danger I have anticipated is at hand. How fortunate that I know of Basil’s arrival in Europe. He must not meet me or Edwin. He is sharp, and the meeting may lead to an exposure of my clever scheme. There is no help for it. Edwin and I must leave here at once.”
The next morning Mrs. Harcourt left Paris suddenly, not letting Ben know where they were bound.
Two days later Basil Wentworth, who had made inquiries in London and obtained directions, reached Paris and presented himself at the Grand Hotel, fully expecting to see his cousin.