"Forget!" She drew a little away from him. Her tone chilled him. "Herbert," she said, "whatever happens, I must go now--this moment. Where are you stopping?" "The _Lion d'Or_," he answered, "down in the village." "I will send a note in the morning," she said eagerly. "Only you must go now, dear. Some one will be out to look for me, and I cannot think--I must have a little time to decide. Be very careful as you go back. If you are stopped, be sure and make them understand that you are an Englishman. Good night!" He kissed her passionately. She yielded to his embrace, but almost immediately drew herself away. He clutched at her hand, but she eluded him. With swift footsteps she crossed the lawn. Just as she reached the terrace, the windows opened once more and some one called her name. "I am coming in now," he heard her answer. "It has been such a wonderful night!" CHAPTER XXIV AN INVITATION TO DINNER The landlord of the _Lion d'Or,_ who had appeared for a moment to chat with his guests while they took their morning coffee, pointed downwards into the valley, where little clouds of mist hung over the lowlands. "The _messieurs_ will find themselves hot to-day," he remarked. "Here, only, there will be a breeze. Eleven hundred feet up, and only three miles from the sea! It is wonderful, eh?" Wrayson pointed across towards the château, whose towers rose from the bosom of the cool green woods. "There, also," he said, "it will be very pleasant. The château is as high as we are, is it not so?" The landlord shrugged his shoulders. "There is little difference," he admitted, "and in the woods there is always shade. But who may go there? Never was an estate kept so zealously private, and, does monsieur know? Since yesterday a new order has been issued. The villagers were forbidden even their ancient rights of walking across the park! The head forester has posted a notice in the village." "I have heard something of it," Wrayson admitted. "Has any reason been given. Are the family in residence there?" The landlord shook his head. "Madame la Baronne was never so exacting," he replied. "One hears that she has lent the château to friends. Two ladies are there, and one gentleman. It is all." "Do you know who they are?" Wrayson asked. The landlord assumed an air of mystery. "One," he said, "is a young English lady. The other--well, they call her Madame de Melbain." "What?" The exclamation came like a pistol-shot from Wrayson's fellow-guest at the inn, who, up to now, had taken no part in the conversation. He had turned suddenly round, and was facing the startled landlord. "Madame de Melbain," he repeated. "Monsieur, perhaps, knows the lady?" There was a moment's silence. Then the man who had called himself Duncan looked away, frowning. "No!" he said, "I do not know her. The name is familiar, but there is no lady of my acquaintance bearing it at present." The landlord looked a little disappointed.