“And if I judge rightly, it is this secret which has parted you?”
“No, it is not,” I answered. “That’s the most curious part of the whole affair. The very existence of the secret has brought us together again.”
“You mean that you have forsaken Edith and returned to her?” he observed, raising his brows slightly in surprise.
“No; don’t put it in that way,” I implored. “I have not yet forsaken Edith.”
He smiled, just a trifle superciliously, I thought.
“And the Countess is also in possession of this mysterious secret—eh?”
“Of that I am not at all certain,” I replied.
He sniffed in distinct suspicion that what I had told him was not the truth. At the same instant, however, the Countess entered and demanded to know the condition of her child.
“She is much better, madame,” he answered. “Perfect quiet is, however, necessary, and constant observation of the temperature. To-morrow, or the day after, you may, I think, see her.”
“Not till then!” she cried. “I cannot wait so long.”