“Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. It was in the quiet streets and squares toward Oxford Street that it first came into her head disagreeably that she herself was being followed. I just wanted a breath of air. “I noticed him call her attention to us as we passed down the room,” he answered. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. To-morrow they will all be contradicted.
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