“By being frank with me.”
“Well?”
“You are to marry Jules Dubard?”
“Yes.”
“At your father’s instigation?”
She was silent, and her cheeks turned slightly paler. Their long acquaintance gave him the right to put such a question to her, yet within her heart she resented it. Why should this secret agent, this man who was an adventurer, although so useful in her father’s service, seek to learn the truth?
“My father gave his consent to our marriage,” she replied simply.
“I know that. He has already told me so. I speak plainly, and say that I am desiring to get at the truth.”
“The truth of what? I don’t understand you.”
“The truth regarding certain circumstances which are exceedingly curious. I have been for three months in active pursuit of knowledge, and in my inquiries have discovered some very strange things. Remember, I am working in the interests of your father, and anything you may say to me is in strict confidence. We have known each other for a long time, Miss Mary,” he added—“indeed, ever since you wore short frocks and used to flirt with me in the salon at San Donato. Do you recollect it?”