Heloise, from an upper window, saw the detective take his ceremonious departure. She had reason to be glad that Dempsi’s shots had done no greater mischief. She had been noticeably nervous all that morning, starting at every sound. Once Diana had found her hiding--there was no other word for it--in the little book-room and, detected, she had been so frightened and confused that Diana for a second was puzzled, till she remembered that the abrupt departure of Double Dan must have shocked the poor girl beyond understanding. Diana had finished her letter when Heloise came aimlessly into the room and looked round. Dempsi was sitting on the sofa, his face in his hands, looking moodily into the fire. Bobbie was in his own room, engaged in some mysterious business of his own (he was writing frantic telegrams to Gordon, imploring him to return; these he addressed to every hotel in Paris where he was likely to be found). Diana looked up with a smile, blotted the envelope and fixed a stamp. “You must talk with Aunt--with Helosie--and amuse her,” she said. “Huh?” Dempsi broke off his meditations with a start. “You have met Heloise?” So many unlikely things had happened in the past forty-eight hours that it was quite possible she had omitted an introduction. She would not have been surprised if Dempsi denied having ever met Aunt Lizzie. “Oh yes, we have met,” he said awkwardly. “Did the shot waken you? I owe you ten thousand apologies if it did.” She shook her head sadly. “No, no. My mind was too full of--something else. Something that I cannot explain. Uncle--Uncle Isaac has really gone?” Diana nodded. “Gone! Out of my life! It doesn’t seem possible.” Dempsi was vaguely interested, fixing her with a blank look; he also was thinking of something else. “Dear lady, you seem very sad,” he said mildly. Her tragic eyes moved till they rested on his. “Sad! When I think of my old home and my dear father in Michigan----” “I thought you said Connecticut,” interrupted Diana. Heloise was a quick thinker. “Mother lives there,” she said gently. “Poppa is in Michigan. They’re living apart.” “I see,” said Diana helpfully, “happily separated. Most of one’s friends are. It is so convenient for everybody--it simply means if you keep on good terms with both, that you double the number of your friends. You must feel rather nice about returning to America--having two homes that will welcome you.” Heloise looked hard at the girl. She was never quite sure whether she was being very serious or very sarcastic. Other people disliked Diana for the same reason. “So you’re going home?” Dempsi roused himself to take a benevolent interest in Aunt Lizzie. “Yes, I’m going back to a new life, thanks to Miss Ford,” she said quietly. “Some day this life will seem like a bad dream; I shall forget everything, except those who have robbed me of that which was dearer than life itself.” The embarrassed Diana made her escape. “You go to America?” “Yes.”