“And what, according to you, does this H. and V. stand for?” he asked with just a touch of warmth in his tone.
She crunched up her nineteenth chocolate and answered in the same careless tone:
“They are initials which you rarely find joined; and when by any chance I do come across them together my mind always makes an involuntary connection between them and the initials of two names that were once brought to my notice.”
She stopped and apparently was not going to continue. He said a trifle impatiently:
“And might I ask what they are?”
“If I were to tell you it would not enlighten you. The first is a name you never heard of,” she assured him.
“All the same?”
“Well, if you must know, it is Horace Valmont.”
“And who is Horace Valmont?” [[25]]
“Horace Valmont is one of the numerous false names behind which was hidden—”