"Monsieur will explain himself." "You understand he has made you an offer in case you consent to transfer your service." "Monsieur commands my allegiance." "You have only to say so if you wish it." "Monsieur is my generous chief. I will not abandon him for a stranger--never, while he continues his goodness and his preference for me." "Well, you belong to _me_ for a month, you know, by our agreement. After that you may consider what you please. In the meantime be true to me; and not one word, if you please, of me or my concerns to anybody." "Certainly, Monsieur. I shall be found a man of honour now as always." "I have no doubt, Jacques; as I told you, I know you to be a gentleman--I rely upon you." M. Varbarriere looked rather grimly into his eye as he uttered this compliment; and when the polite little gentleman had left the room, M. Varbarriere bethought him how very little he had to betray--how little he knew about him, his nephew, and his plans; and although he would not have liked his inquiries to be either baulked or disclosed, he could yet mentally snap his fingers at Monsieur. CHAPTER XXVII. M. Varbarriere talks a little more freely. After his valet left him, M. Varbarriere did not descend, but remained in his dressing-room, thinking profoundly; and, after a while, he opened his pocket-book, and began to con over a number of figures, and a diagram to which these numbers seemed to refer. Sometimes standing at the window, at others pacing the floor, and all the time engrossed by a calculation, like a man over a problem in mathematics. For two or three minutes he had been thus engaged when Guy Strangways entered the room. "Ho! young gentleman, why don't you read your prayer-book?" said the old man, with solemn waggery. "I don't understand," said the young gentleman. "No, you don't. I am the old sphynx, you see, and some of my riddles I can't make out, even myself. My faith! I have been puzzling my head till it aches over my notebook; and I saw you walking with that old lady, Lady Alice Redcliffe, up and down so affectionately. _There_ is another riddle! My faith! the house itself is an enigma. And Sir Jekyl--what do you think of _him_; is he going to marry?" "To marry!" echoed Guy Strangways. "Ay, to marry. I do not know, but he is so sly. We must not let him marry, you know; it would be so cruel to poor little Mademoiselle Beatrix--eh?" Guy Strangways looked at him doubtingly. "He is pretty old, you know, but so am I, and _older_, my faith! But I think he is making eyes at the _married_ ladies--eh?" "I have not observed--perhaps so," answered Guy, carelessly. "He does walk and talk a great deal with that pretty Madame Maberly." "Madame Maberly? Bah!" And M. Varbarriere's "bah" sounded like one of those long sneering slides played sometimes on a deep chord of a double bass. "No, no, it is that fine woman, Miladi Jane Lennox."