From the carriage window she put out her hand.
"You have been very kind to me," she said. "Good-bye!"
"An impossible word," he answered, with well-affected gayety. "A
pleasant journey to you."
Then the carriage rolled away, and Spencer and he were left alone.
Duncombe secured the front door, and they walked slowly back to the
library.
"You know Paris well," Duncombe said. "Have you ever heard of these
people?"
Spencer smiled.
"My dear fellow!" he exclaimed. "De St. Ethol is one of the first nobles
in France. I have seen him at the races many times."
"Not the sort of people to lend themselves to anything shady?"
"The last in the world," Spencer answered. "She was the Comtesse de
Laugnan, and between them they are connected with half a dozen Royal
houses. This business is getting exceedingly interesting, Duncombe!"
But Duncombe was thinking of the empty room.
BOOK II
CHAPTER I
GUY POYNTON AGAIN
"I Suppose," the boy said thoughtfully, "I must seem to you beastly
ungrateful. You've been a perfect brick to me ever since that night. But
I can't help being a bit homesick. You see, it was really the first time
I'd ever been away from home for long, and though my little place isn't
a patch on this, of course, still, I was born there, and I'm jolly fond
of it.
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