"You know a certain M. Gray?" I asked. He started.
"Yes," he said; "that is him talking to mademoiselle. Shall I introduce you?"
"Not at present—no, I thank you," I answered. He looked up at me.
"Do you know him?" he asked. My eye had been bent on him for the last few seconds.
"I think I do," I said; "I am not sure."
"He came here with the Dowlasses; he is the son of an English milord, who allows him a thousand pounds a year."
"Why did he leave England, then?" I inquired.
"He was too gay, I believe."
"And left his debts unpaid, I suppose." He looked up at me again.
"If you do know him, or anything about him," he exclaimed, "pray tell me; I am particularly anxious about him."