"But, non, that is a dark lady." The doctor stared, puzzled.
"My nephew attended milady in Italy; but she is fair."
"No, Monsieur; she was always dark. He's muddled her with Esmé Carteret, who was with her. She is brilliantly fair. She might—yes—there she is, just going out."
Legrand turned, caught a fleeting glimpse of Esmé, started.
"Meeses Carteret," he half whispered. "But surely, it is so like the Mrs Smith of London. I seem to know this Mrs Carteret," he said aloud.
"She is a pretty woman. Oh!"
For Legrand had slipped away, struggled to the far doorway to get to Esmé, caught a glimpse of a fair head on the stairs, but got no nearer.
But that night he drew the strands of fate closer, for he wrote to Luigi:
"I have seen your Lady Blakeney, and she is brown-haired, ordinarily pretty, no fair-haired goddess. If you will join me here for a day—get Cartier to act for me. Thy Nonno."
Luigi arranged to come to London in ten days' time.