“But yes. Madame said he was English. He saw her—he went away. Yesterday Madam left; she will come no more. She is gone, perhaps, to England. I do not know, I swear.”
André reflected. Yes, it was more than possible that “the princess” had returned to England.
“Do you know,” he demanded next, “why she left?”
“Because,” her voice dropped, “she feared the vengeance of the Marquise de Pompadour.”
André vividly recollected the scene when he had come to consult the crystal-gazer. The girl was not lying.
“And you know nothing more?”
“Nothing, Monsieur.”
She took the gold piece greedily. André had his foot in the stirrup when a thought struck him.
“Tell me,” he asked persuasively, “why you thought I was of the police?”
The girl beckoned him within and closed the door.