And Lily did tell him in a broken, confused way what she feared, nay, what by now she felt sure, was the dread truth.
“Perhaps I’m being very foolish about Angus,” she said in a low voice. “After all, he has no money, thank God!”
“No, but he has you,” said M. Popeau very gravely. “Have I not guessed right, my dear child?”
As only answer Lily pressed the hand which held hers in so protective and kind a grasp.
Through both their minds there flashed simultaneously the same thought—that Angus Stuart was indeed a formidable obstacle to the Countess Polda’s wishes.
But how could she have found this out? She had hardly ever seen the two young people together. Besides, even he, Hercules Popeau, had not felt sure till just now, when the girl sitting by his side had squeezed his hand in answer to his question.
The Frenchman began to feel far more uneasy than he allowed Lily to know. For one thing, it was so strange that Angus Stuart had not come back long ere now to the Hôtel de Paris! On the other hand, they might have just missed him. Another possibility was that Stuart might even now be on his way down to Monte Carlo. Once they got clear of the streets M. Popeau instructed the driver to look out for a gentleman. But as they rushed up the steep, winding road it remained absolutely solitary till at last they heard the police motor coming up behind them.
“I suggest that we stop the taxi some way below the grounds. Our object is to take them by surprise. Remember, Mademoiselle, that if our suspicions are justified we shall have to deal with desperate people.”
A few moments later they were creeping softly, swiftly, up through the orange grove. It was very dark, for the moon was now but a slender crescent, and their footsteps sounded unnaturally loud.
Lily and M. Popeau were leading, with the two police agents three or four yards behind them.