I then told her of my journey to Spain and afterwards to Nîmes. But I mentioned nothing concerning either Oswald De Gex or Despujol.
At that moment Gabrielle, unaware of my presence, entered. She was dressed in a simple grey frock with short sleeves and cut discreetly low, and looked very sweet. On seeing me she drew back, but next second she put out her slim white hand in greeting, and with a delightful smile, exclaimed:
“Why—why, Mr. Garfield! I—I remember you! You called upon me some weeks ago—did you not?”
“Yes, Miss Tennison, I did,” I replied as I sprang from my chair and bent over her hand. “So you recollect me—eh?”
“I do. They said that you would call upon me,” she replied, her beautiful face suddenly clouding.
“Who told you that?” I asked.
“Doctor Moroni. He warned me that you were my enemy.”
I drew a long breath, for I discerned the depth of the plot.
“Not your enemy, Miss Tennison,” I assured her. “But your friend—your friend who is trying his best to solve the problem of your—your illness.”