Duncan turned deliberately round and stared at the person whom they were discussing. "I should doubt it very much," he answered. "For my part, I don't believe for a moment that he is an Englishman at all." "I am very glad to hear you say so," Wrayson declared. "But the question is, if he is not on this business, what the devil is he doing here?" "Have you the _entrée_ to the chateâu?" Duncan asked abruptly. "I am invited to dine there this evening," Wrayson answered. "Then, if I were you," Duncan said, "I should make a point of ascertaining, if you can, the personality of this Madame de Melbain." Wrayson nodded. "I shall see her, of course," he said, "and I will do so." "My own idea," Duncan said deliberately, "is that it is in connection with her presence here that the landlord of the inn and the villagers have received these injunctions about strangers. Try and find out what you can about her, and in the meantime I will look after the gentleman over there. He wants to be friendly--I will make a companion of him. When you come back to-night we will have another talk." "It's awfully good of you," Wrayson said. "And now--I've one thing more to say." Duncan nodded. "Go on," he said. "I have taken you into my confidence so far as was possible," Wrayson said slowly. "I am going to ask you a question now." "I cannot promise to answer it," Duncan declared, taking up his pipe and carefully refilling it. "Naturally! But I am going to ask it," Wrayson said. "An hour or so ago I was talking to the young lady in front of the inn, and you were watching us. I saw your face at the window as she was driving off." "Well?" The monosyllable was hard and dry. "You are neither an inquisitive nor an emotional person," Wrayson said. "I am sure of that. I want an explanation." "Of what?" "Of your suddenly becoming both!" Duncan had lit his pipe now, and smoked for a few moments furiously. "I will not bandy words with you," he said at last. "You want an explanation which I cannot give." Wrayson looked as he felt, dissatisfied. "Look here," he said, "I'm not asking for your confidence. I'm simply asking you to explain why the sight of that young lady should be a matter of emotion to you. You know who she is, I am convinced. What else?" Duncan shook his head. "I'm sorry," he said. "You may trust me or not, as you like. All I can say about myself is this. I've been up against it hard--very hard. So far as regards the ordinary affairs of life I simply don't count. I'm a negation--a purely subjective personage. I may be able to help you a little here--I shall certainly never be in your way. My interest in the place--there, I will tell you that--is purely of a sentimental nature. My interest in life itself is something of the same sort. Take my advice. Let it go at that." "I will," Wrayson declared, with sudden heartiness. Duncan nodded. "I'll go and look after our little friend in the yellow boots," he said. CHAPTER XXVI MADAME DE MELBAIN