Doolittle was on the point of insinuating that a proper use of her charms might accomplish much in certain quarters, but there was something so calmly virginal and pure about the girl as she sat there in her half-sacred costume that instinct conquered cynicism and he refrained. Unattached and unchaperoned as she was, or appeared to be, the girl commanded respect even in Paris. Instead of answering at once he reflected. "Do you know any one in America?" he asked. "No one," she replied. "I am going to find some one, but I do not even know who it is that I seek. Furthermore, I am going to bring that some one to his death if I can do so." She was quite calm and matter-of-fact about this statement, and therefore Mr. Doolittle was not quite so astounded as he might otherwise have been. He essayed a laugh that betrayed little real mirth. "Mademoiselle jests, of course?" "Mademoiselle is quite serious, I assure you, and not at all mad. I will be brief. Twenty years ago, nearly, my father was murdered in America after discovering something that would have made him wealthy. His murderer was never brought to justice, and the thing he found was lost again. We are Basques, we d'Albrets, and Basques do not forget an injury, as you may know. I am the last of his family, and it is my duty, therefore, to take measures to avenge him. After twenty years it may be difficult, and yet I shall try. I should have gone before, but the war interrupted me." "And your fortune, which is on deposit here?" asked the curious Mr. Doolittle. "Has been saved and devoted to that purpose. My mother left it to me after providing for my education--which included the learning of English that I might be prepared for the adventure. The war is over--and I am ready to go." "Hum!" said Doolittle, a little dazed. "It is an extraordinary affair, indeed. After twenty years--to find a murderer and to kill him. It is not done in America." "Then I will be the first to do it," said the young woman, coolly. "But there is no possibility--there is no possible way in which you could secure passage with such a story, mademoiselle. Accommodations are scarce, and one must have the most urgent reasons before one can secure them. Every liner is a troopship, filled with returning soldiers, and the staterooms are crowded with officers and diplomats. Private errands must yield to public necessities and, above all, such exceedingly private and personal errands as you have described. Instead of allowing you to sail, if you told this story, they would put you under surveillance." "Exactly," said mademoiselle. "Therefore I shall not tell it. It remains, therefore, that I shall get advice from you to solve my dilemma." "From me!" gasped the helpless Doolittle; "how can I help solve it?"