The surprise was great. She regarded him for some moments rather bewildered. He seemed to have dropped from the sky. “Mr. Merriam!” She collected herself quickly, rose, extended her hand. “I am so glad to see you again,” she said, with an air of sincerity warranted by the occasion. “Can I be of any service to you?” “Oh, no, thanks,” she replied lightly. And turning to Boissy, who stood by fuming, “I have the pleasure of thanking you for a most agreeable afternoon.” With a bow she dismissed him. He saluted with as good a grace as he could, including Gerard in his salute. But Gerard kept his hands in his pockets and watched him move away. “What the deuce was he trying to do?” he asked. “Make love to me, I suppose.” “Somewhat fiercely!” “I had just struck him across the face.” “Are those the habits of these parts?” “Oh, no. We are tame as a rule. I had just been lunching with him in the most civilised way.” “Perhaps I intruded,” said Gerard. “By no means. You came just in time, like the hero in a melodrama, to save maiden innocence from the clutches of the villain.” “May I enjoy the hero’s privilege of consolation?” “Within moderate limits,” she said. “I shall not be taking you from your friends?” “Oh, no. I don’t expect my friend, Mrs. Delamere, who lives with me, till half-past four. Till then I am a waif. Shall we sit? Or, no. Let us find a place somewhere else.” They walked together to the terrace below, and sat down facing the blue glory of the sea. On their way thither, she began to explain her presence in Monte Carlo. Nice had been her winter quarters for over three years. Her little villa was charming. If Mr. Merriam happened to be in Nice and would call at the Casa Benedetta, Mrs. Delamere and herself would be delighted to see him. Minna used her chaperon freely as a stalking horse of respectability. “I shall be glad to come,” said Gerard, with an appreciative glance at his companion. “I only landed in Europe yesterday, after a long absence, so I haven’t found my bearings yet.” “Where have you been?” “Until lately in South Africa. Hunting and gold mining. Then I satisfied a schoolboy craze to see Madagascar. I don’t want to see it again. Was down with fever most of the time, and took the first Messageries steamer to Marseilles. Then I thought I would put in a week or two here, before facing the wretched English spring.” “So you’ve been gold-mining,” said Minna. “Yes. Pretty successfully. Came in just before the boom.” “Made a fortune?” “I’ve cleared a tidy bit.” “And you’ve come here to dispose of some of it?” “At the tables? Not much. I am not that sort.” “I am afraid I am,” said Minna, with a little sigh. “Do you win or lose?” he asked. “Last year I lost £6,000. This year I am winning. That’s one reason why I live in these parts. The tables are a necessity to me. Monte Carlo, Aix-les-Bains, Ostend. That’s my usual round.” “Don’t you get rather sick of it?”