‘I dare say I was distrait,’ she continued, with a curious smile and a flash of her dark eyes. ‘I was in such trouble about poor Ombermere. What I want to tell you is that I saw Mr. Bradley the other day at Rouen, as I was returning from Paris.’
‘At Rouen,’ repeated George Craik.
‘Yes, on the railway platform, in company with a very charming lady, who was hanging on his arm, and regarding him with very evident adoration.’
George pricked up his ears like a little terrier; he smelt mischief of some sort.
‘I fancy you must be mistaken,’ he said. ‘Bradley is not likely to have been travelling across the Channel.’
‘I am not at all mistaken,’ answered Mrs. Montmorency. ‘Mr. Bradley’s appearance is peculiar, his face especially, and I am sure it was himself. What I want to find out is, who was his companion?’
‘I hardly see what, interest that can be to you,’ observed George suspiciously, ‘since you only know him—by sight!’
‘The lady interested me. I was wondering if it could be your charming cousin.’
George started as if he had been shot.
‘My Cousin Alma! Impossible! Surely you don’t know what you are saying!’