As he replied, his glance encountered hers with frankness. "Madame de la Fontaine, I told you yesterday morning, my sister, Nancy Frost, has disappeared. We searched for her all day in vain. Not a trace of her has been found. But certain strange events have led me to suspect that certain persons have had something to do with her disappearance and must know her whereabouts. I will be frank Madame. One of the persons whom I so suspect is yourself."
"I!—mon Dieu! and why is it that you believe this, Monsieur?"
"I suspect you, madame, because I suspect the Marquis de Boisdhyver."
"Ah! the French gentleman who is staying with you at the Inn at the Red Oak, is it not so?"
"Yes."
"But—why me?"
"Because, madame, I discovered that you and the Marquis de Boisdhyver have been in secret communication with each other."
"C'est impossible. Te me comprende pas, monsieur. Will you tell me why it is that you can think that this Marquis de Bois—what is the name?"
"De Boisdhyver."
"Merci. Why is it that you can think that the Marquis de Boisdhyver and I have been in secret communication?"