Beauty controlled her trembling and added a few reflections, derived at second hand from Lanny's professors. After a decent interval she said: “You haven't any idea what's become of that young man?”
“Not a word from him since he left my house that night. I thought it very strange.”
“I'll ask Lanny about him,” suggested the mother. “He knows many musical people, and might find him. Do you suppose he's related to Jaques-Dalcroze?”
“I asked him that. He told me no.”
“Well, I'll see if Lanny can find him.”
“But why, Beauty? Isn't it better not to know, under the circumstances?”
“Then you wouldn't want to give him up?” inquired the devious one.
“Surely not — unless I knew he had committed some serious crime. The war is over, so far as I am concerned, and I've not the least interest in getting anybody shot. Let the Sûreté find him if they can.”
“Are you satisfied that they believed your story, Emily?”
“It hadn't occurred to me that they wouldn't,” was the great lady's reply. She was a most dignified person, and did not have to assume this role. “Apparently they knew all about me, and they talked as if they were gentlemen. They are high officials, I am sure.”