“Yes; I do. Let us stroll somewhere where we can talk.” Then after a moment’s reflection she added: “The Tuileries Gardens would be a good place. We might avoid eavesdroppers there.”
“Certainly,” he said, and, rather interested in the adventure, he strolled along at her side. She put up her pale blue sunshade, for it was a hot day, and at that hour the Avenue was deserted, for the work-girls were not yet out from the numerous ateliers in the neighbourhood, and half Paris was away at the spas or at the sea.
Rolfe knew many of old Sam’s spies, but had never seen this English girl before. That she was a lady seemed evident by her manner and speech, and that she had something of importance to tell him was plain. She had, no doubt, learned of his flying visit to Paris—for he meant to leave for London at four o’clock—and had come to the office in order that he could not escape her.
As he walked beside her, a well-set-up figure in dark grey flannel, he cast a furtive glance at the pretty, dark-complexioned face beneath the turquoise sunshade. She looked younger than she was, for her skirts only reached to her ankles, displaying a neat brown shoe tied with large bows. Across her brow was just a tiny wisp of stray hair, reminding him forcibly of the sweet countenance of his lost love. He recollected how he used to tease her about that unruly little lock, and how often he used to tenderly brush it back from her eyes.
“You live in Paris?” he asked as they walked together.
“Sometimes,” was her rather vague reply. “I’m always fond of it, for it is so bright and pleasant after—” and she was on the point of giving him a clue to her place of abode, but stopped her words in time.
“After what?” he asked.
“After other places,” she answered evasively.
He glanced at her again, wondering whom she might be. A girl of her age could scarcely act as secret agent in financial matters. Her white gown perhaps gave her a more girlish appearance than she otherwise possessed, but there could be no two opinions that she was really good-looking.
She had approached him with timidity and modesty, yet in those few minutes of their acquaintance she had already become quite friendly, and they were already laughing together as they crossed the Rue de Rivoli.