The door opened cautiously and there entered a man about thirty years of age, of medium height and slightly, even delicately, built. That he was a Frenchman was apparent even at a glance. The dark closely cropped hair, worn in the so-called pompadour or military style, the pale, saturnine features, the manner and general bearing all loudly proclaimed his Gallic nationality. His smooth shaven face showed a firm mouth with bloodless lips so thin as to be hardly perceptible. His eyes, when they could be seen at all, were greenish in color, and small and restless as those of a ferret. He advanced into the room with the obsequious deferential manner which in all well-trained servants becomes second nature, moving across the thickly carpeted floor with the rapidity and noiselessness of a snake. "Where have you been, Francois?" demanded Kenneth sharply. The valet stopped short, as if struck by a blow, but he did not stand still. His nervous thin hands and lean body were in constant motion, although he did not stir from the one spot. In every involuntary movement and gesture there was something that suggested the feline. When spoken to or given an order he replied respectfully and obeyed with alacrity, but when addressed he listened always with eyes averted. This had always exasperated Helen. She could not recall him ever looking her straight in the face. For that reason alone, if, for no other, she disliked and distrusted him, thinking not unnaturally that a man, who is afraid to let his eyes meet another's, must be plotting in his mind some treachery which he fears his direct gaze may betray. His furtive glances went quickly from master to mistress. Something in their attitude, the suddenness with which they interrupted their conversation told him that they had been talking about him. "Did you hear me?" demanded Kenneth again. "Where have you been? You knew there was this packing to be done." The man's eyes flashed resentfully, but he replied civilly: "Oui, monsieur, but monsieur forgets. Monsieur told me I must go to ze tailor." Kenneth's frown disappeared. Yes, it was true. He had sent him to the tailor. Quick to make amends for an injustice, he said more amiably: "That's right. I had forgotten. What did they say?" "Ze suits will be delivered in half hour." "Very well. When they come, you will know which trunk to put them in." "Oui, monsieur." "And then, when my trunks are ready you had better hustle with your own packing. There's no time to be lost. The steamer sails at 11 o'clock to-morrow morning." "Oui, monsieur." Quietly, stealthily, the valet retraced his cat-like steps and opening the door retired as noiselessly as he had come. CHAPTER III When the valet had disappeared, Kenneth turned to his wife with a chuckle. "Who was right? You made me scold him for nothing." Helen shook her head.