“Geoff, you’re horrid!” declared the girl, pouting.
“I suppose you find Madame Claudet a very pleasant companion?” Falconer went on, walking slowly, for the evening was bright, and under the trees many people were enjoying the cool air after the heat of an oppressive day.
“Yes. She’s so awfully jolly.”
“Has she been with you all the time since I left you?”
“Except when she went to Paris. She left Dinard suddenly, and was only away about fifteen hours. She’s such a rapid traveller. I fancy I should have been half dead with fatigue if I had done such a journey in that time. She could have had only about a couple of hours in Paris to do the business.”
“With her bankers—was it not?”
“Yes—with the Paris agent of her bank. She’s been selling some property in Brazil. She’s such a thoroughgoing cosmopolitan—and mother is charmed with her. She is coming to stay with us in London.”
“Excellent!” the young man exclaimed, reflecting, however, upon those strange messages to that mysterious man in Ryder Street. “Your mother seems devoted to madame,” he went on.
“Yes. But she’s really awfully good fun. Besides, speaking French as she does, she’s been most useful to us on our tour. I really don’t know what we should have done without her.”
“And yet you only knew her slightly.”