Tony shrugged his shoulders.
"My dear Reggie," he said, "I know very little more about Musette than you do. I met her exactly two months ago in the Bois, when, in her extremely sensible way, she stopped and asked me to get rid of some futile Frenchman who had been following her round for the best part of an hour."
"How charming!" said Reggie. "That sort of thing never happens to me. Did you hurt him?"
"I think he shuddered a little at my accent," replied Tony. "Anyhow, he cleared out, and I took Musette back to the Hotel de Paris, where she was staying. There I met Mrs. Watson, and they asked me to call on them in London."
"It sounds like Phillips Oppenheim at his best," said Reggie. "But surely you must have found out something more since then. What relation is she to the old lady, and where does the girl get her money from?"
Tony shook his head.
"I've no idea," he said. "She has never offered to tell me anything, and so, of course, I've never asked her. We've just been pals—that's all."
Reggie helped himself to a cigarette.
"Well, you can't live in Curzon Street on nothing," he said. "I've tried it. They must have at least five thousand a year. I think you will have to marry her, Tony, and trust to luck."
Tony laughed a little uneasily.