"I would prefer not to leave my name," was the candid answer. "Good evening."
He walked briskly down the avenue, and Hedges stood looking after him, slightly puzzled in his mind.
"I don't believe it's a creditor; that I don't. He looks like a parson to me. But it's some trouble though, if it's not debt. 'Danger' was the word: 'there might be danger.' Danger in writing, he meant. Any way, I'm glad he didn't go in to that ferreting old dowager. And whatever it may be, his lordship's able to pay it now."
CHAPTER XIX.
A CHANCE MEETING.
Some few weeks went by. On a fine June morning Lord and Lady Hartledon were breakfasting at their hotel in the Rue Rivoli. She was listlessly playing with her cup; he was glancing over Galignani's.
"Maude," he suddenly exclaimed, "the fountains are to play on Sunday at Versailles. Will you go to see them?"
"I am tired of sight-seeing, and tired of Paris too," was Lady Hartledon's answer, spoken with apathy.
"Are you?" he returned, with animation, as though not sorry to hear the avowal. "Then we won't stay in Paris any longer. When shall we leave?"