“I’ve been following you up for quite a long time,” she remarked, in a more friendly tone. It appeared as if his attitude and greeting had made some impression on her, in spite of herself. “First I went to your office. Then to the strong-rooms, then to the garage, then to the strong-rooms again, and now I’m here. I saw you crossing the gardens. Nobody seemed to be inclined to give me any information about you.” “No?” he murmured, in a cautious interrogative. “Now tell me; how can I be of service to you?” She scanned his features. They were alone together in the midst of the immense gardens. A hundred yards away was the bandstand, the scene of the greatest triumphs of his life. And yet in that moment his triumphs seemed nothing to him as he stood under her gaze. Her personality affected him powerfully. He said to himself that no woman had ever looked at him like that. There was no admiration in her glance, no prejudice either for or against him; nothing but a candid and judicial inquiry. “I hope I shall come well out of this scrutiny,” his thoughts ran. And the masculine desire formed obscurely in his breast to make this girl think favourably of him, to make her admire him, love him, worship him. He felt that to see love in these calm, courageous, independent eyes of hers would be a recompense and a reward for all he had suffered in the forty years of his existence. In a word she piqued him. He little knew that up to that very evening she had worshipped him afar off as women do worship their heroes. “Nobody ill, I hope,” he ventured. She ignored the observation, and said: “Mr. Carpentaria, what have you done with Cousin Ilam?” “What?” he cried, amazed both by the question, and by the cold firmness with which it was put. “I think you heard what I said,” she replied. “What have you done with Cousin Ilam? Where is he?” “Miss Dartmouth, do you imagine for one instant that I know where Mr. Ilam is? I should only like to know where he is. I’m looking for him now. But I was not aware that the fact of his disappearance was known. Indeed, I meant it to be kept as secret as possible. I----” “No, no,” she interrupted him. “I was hoping you would be frank. I thought you had an honest face, Mr. Carpentaria, and it is because of that that I have come--like this. I have just left your poor sister. She is in despair. She has told me all.” Carpentaria did not reply immediately. At last he repeated: “Told you all? All what? You have soon become fast friends, you and Juliette.”