"Ah, you bachelors are generally abrupt to unwelcome visitors?" she answered in her pleasant broken English, with a low rippling laugh. "It is only my much abused sex who prevent you from reverting to utter barbarity. You are not married. Ah, you should have a wife to look after you." "Perhaps I may have one--some day," he answered, smiling at her frankness. Slowly she removed the cigarette from her lips, and her gaze wandered round the brightly-furnished room. "But you declare yourself to be an unwelcome visitor," he continued. "Why?" For a moment she regarded the end of her cigarette contemplatively, then turning her dark eyes upon his, answered in a half-apologetic tone-- "Well, you must think my visit here curious, m'sieur. It is. Nevertheless, I trust I may be forgiven for encroaching upon your time, and coming here without introduction. The object of my call is of some concern to you, inasmuch as it is in the interests of one who loves you." "One who loves me!" he echoed in surprise. "Who?" "Liane Brooker," answered his fair visitor. "In her interests, and in yours." "Are you, then, a friend of Liane's?" he inquired, suddenly interested. "Well, not exactly," she replied, a little evasively he thought. Then she replaced her cigarette daintily between her lips, and continued smoking with that ease and grace acquired by ladies who are in the habit of soothing their nerves with tobacco. "Are you acquainted with Captain Brooker?" he asked. "Yes, we have met," she answered. "You know him, of course? He is such a kind-hearted man, such a thorough Bohemian, yet such a perfect gentleman." "Unfortunately, I have only met him on one or two occasions," George said. In an instant it had occurred to him that from his mysterious visitor he might learn what Liane and poor Nelly had always refused to tell him. "He has lived here, in France, for some years. What has been his profession?" "Profession!" she exclaimed, raising her dark well shaped eyebrows. "What! are you unaware?" "I am entirely ignorant." "Well, although a military officer, of late years his chief field of operations has been the trente-et-quarante table at Monte Carlo, where he is as well-known as--well, as the fat old gentleman who sits in the bureau to examine one's visiting card." "A gambler!" he cried, in a tone of disbelief. "Yes, a gambler," she went on. "Few men of late years have lost such large sums so recklessly as he has. Once everybody followed his play, believing him to be a sort of wizard who could divine the cards undealt; but at last his ill-luck became proverbial, and after ruining himself he left with Liane and Nelly Bridson and went to England." "And Liane? What of her?" he inquired, dismayed that the man he had held in high esteem as a good-hearted, easy-going fellow should actually turn out to be an adventurer.