“And from Germany?”
“We remained a week in Berlin; thence we went to Copenhagen by way of Kiel and Korsor, and ten days ago crossed from Hamburg to Harwich—home again.”
“Your father is certainly extremely clever in evading the police,” I said, with a laugh.
“Our only fear was for you,” she said; “whether they would learn any thing by watching you.”
“They learnt nothing, even though they submitted me to a very close examination. But,” I added, “how did you know Tramu was in Aix?”
“I was ascending in the lift that evening, and as we passed the first floor I saw him talking with the hotel manager. Dad had once pointed him out to me at Monte Carlo. So I suspected the reason of his visit there, and scribbled you a line of warning before we took our bags and slipped away.”
“But for what reason is he so anxious to secure your arrest?” I asked, looking straight into her face. “Cannot you tell me the truth, Miss Seymour? Remember, I am your friend,” I added earnestly.
“Please do not ask me,” she urged. “I cannot betray the man who has been father to me all these years,” she added in a low, pained voice.
“But are you quite certain that he is as devoted to you as he professes?” I asked very gravely.
“Absolutely. Am I not the only real friend he has?”