"Indeed! I wish, Hugh, you would break away from all the painful associations with that man, you can do him no good."
"True; but I have the most profound pity for him, all the more that he seems by no means glad to see me. I fancy his terrible misfortune has affected his brain. He is sullen, and averse to speak of anything that leads up to the subject of his lost daughter, and yet he looks in surprisingly good health."
"He has not had a brain fever!" said Lady Gethin, significantly. "I suppose no trace whatever has been discovered?"
"Not the faintest. I succeeded in obtaining an interview with M. Claude, who reluctantly admitted that the French police have rarely been so baffled."
"It is a most extraordinary case," said Lady Gethin, and then hastened to change the subject. "I have had rather a pleasant time of it at the Kingsfords'. I went down the day before Christmas and only returned yesterday. The Deerings put up there for two nights on their way to Lord Arthur Saville's. Lady Frances was looking a little more alive; and really Deering can be very agreeable."
"He is, I suspect, a tremendously white-washed sepulchre."
"I cannot understand your suspicions of Deering," returned Lady Gethin; "as to his being mixed up with the Lambert affair, it is mere nonsense. What on earth could he have to do with such a man as you describe Lambert? He might have met him in a train, or on a steamboat, or a race-course, but it is impossible he could have known much of him."
"He did, however, I am certain," said Glynn, slowly and thoughtfully; "and you would agree with me had you seen them together. There was deadly enmity as well as acquaintanceship between them."
"Well, perhaps so," she returned. "Will you have a cup of coffee, Hugh? It will rouse you, you look sleepy and distrait."
"Thank you; a cup of your coffee will do me good."