"You are going to leave Paris soon?"
"Very soon."
"Then I suppose you have found out all you want to know about that poor girl who was murdered?"
"Yes, I have found out all I want to know."
"Thank God! It was so terrible to think there were people living who could suspect Bothwell."
"It is horrible to think there was any man base enough to murder that helpless girl—a man so steeped in hypocrisy that he could defy suspicion."
"You know who committed the murder?" inquired Hilda.
"I can answer no more questions. You will learn all in time. The difficulty will be to forget the hideous story when you have once heard it. Good-bye."
They were alone in the Tillet salon, Monsieur Tillet having retired while they were talking. He reappeared on the landing outside to hand Mr. Heathcote the parcel of sketches, and to make his respectful adieux to that discerning amateur.
"Monsieur your brother is the most accomplished Englishman I ever met," said the painter to Hilda, when his visitor had disappeared in the obscurity of the staircase.