‘Ah,’ cried the watchmaker, ‘I see you know her history better than I. Yes, an English gentleman did visit her. It was nearly a year after her return that he came, in the middle of summer. He stayed a week at the hotel, the same to which Félicie went to see the English lady with whom she left Rouen. This gentleman used to spend most of his time next door, and he and Félicie Dumarques drove about in a hired carriage together to different places in the neighbourhood, and for the first time since her return I saw Félicie with a happy look on her face. But there was the stamp of death there too, clear and plain enough for any eyes that could read; and I think the Englishman must have seen it as well as I. Margot contrived to find out all that happened next door. She told me that a grand physician had come from Paris to see Félicie Dumarques, and had ordered a new treatment, which was to cure her. And then I regret to say that Margot, who has a wicked tongue, began to say injurious things about our neighbours. I stopped her at once, forbidding her to utter a word to the discredit of Félicie Dumarques, and a short time after Margot came to me once more full of importance, to say that I was right and Félicie was an honest woman. The old servant next door had told my housekeeper that the English gentleman was Félicie’s husband. They had been married in England, but they were obliged to keep their marriage a secret, on account of the Englishman’s uncle, who would disinherit him if he knew his nephew had married a lady’s-maid; for this gentleman was nephew of the invalid lady who had taken Félicie away.’ ‘I begin to understand,’ said Lucius, and then, producing the double miniature, he showed the watchmaker the two portraits. ‘Is either of those faces familiar to you?’ he asked. ‘Both of them,’ cried the other. ‘One is a portrait of Félicie Dumarques, in the prime of her beauty; the other of the Englishman who came to visit her.’ ‘Did you hear the Englishman’s name?’ inquired Lucius.