“Well—so am I, Miss Ranscomb,” replied the tall, elegant man who spoke with such refinement, and was so shrewd and alert. “There are certain facts—facts of which I have no knowledge. The affair at the Villa Amette is still, to me, a most profound mystery.”
“Why did Hugh go there at all? That is what I fail to understand,” she declared.
“Don’t wonder any longer. He had, I know, an urgent and distinct motive to call that night.”
“But the woman! I hear she is a notorious adventuress.”
“And the adventuress, Miss Ranscomb, often has, deep in her soul, the heart of a pure woman,” he said. “One must never judge by appearance or gossip. What people may think is the curse of many of our lives. I hope you do not misjudge Mr. Henfrey.”
“I do not. But I am anxious to hear his explanation.”
“You shall—and before long, too,” he replied. “But I want you, if you will, to answer a question. I do not put it from mere idle curiosity, but it very closely concerns you both. Have you ever heard him speak of a girl named Louise Lambert?”
“Louise Lambert? Why, yes! He introduced her to me once. She is, I understand, the adopted daughter of a man named Benton, an intimate friend of old Mr. Henfrey.”
“Has he ever told you anything concerning her?”
“Nothing much. Why?”