Curtis disregarded a perceptible coldness in her tone. He was too busy sweeping away the mists.
"What sort of guarantee?" he asked.
"His promise, his word of honor."
"Was he—a gentleman?"
"Not socially, but in every other sense. He was my music-master in Paris."
Curtis put his next question hurriedly. He was anxious to avoid the least suspicion on the girl's part that he might be crediting Jean de Courtois with motives which would not pass muster before a jury of cool-headed men so readily as they seemed to have satisfied an impetuous and frightened girl.
"How did your father ascertain that you were in New York?" he said.
"Oh, it seems that a certain period of residence was necessary before a marriage license could be obtained, and it was unavoidable that my name should be found out by those whom he hired to track me."
"But why were you not married under an assumed name?"
"Monsieur de Courtois assured me that such a thing would render the marriage invalid."