The man swore under his breath.
“Answer me,” persisted Barfleur, still fixing him solemnly through his monocle. “Does she?”
“Why, no, of course she doesn’t,” replied the Jew sheepishly.
“Would you want her to know?” This in sepulchral tones.
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Have you a sister?”
“Yes.”
“Would you want her to know?”
“I don’t know,” replied the guide defiantly. “She might know anyhow.”
“Tell me truly, if she did not know, would you want her to know?”