"I do not believe it," she answered.
"I cannot allow you to come with me," I said. "You must accept this decision as final. You have had patience for three years; exercise it a little longer, and—God knows, perhaps you may be rewarded. Anyhow, you must trust me to do the best I can for Tollemache. Go back to the Métrôpole. I will let you know as soon as I have any news. You will, I am sure, trust me?"
"Oh, fully," she replied, tears suddenly filling her lovely eyes. "But remember that I love him—I love him with a very deep love."
There was something noble in the way she made this emphatic statement. I took her hand and led her from the room. A moment later she had left me, and I was hurrying on foot to Mercer's Hotel.
The manager was waiting for me in the hall. He had the dressing-case in his hand.
"Shall I send this by a commissionaire?" he asked.
"No," I replied, "I should prefer to take it myself. Tell the porter to call a hansom for me immediately."
The man looked immensely relieved.
"That is good of you, doctor," he said; "the fact is, I don't like the sound of that address."
"Nor do I," I replied.