"You have any further reason for thinking so," she asked, "beyond your casual inquiries?" "Well, yes!" he admitted. "I went a little farther than those casual inquiries. It seemed such a meagre report to bring you." "Go on!" "The ordinary person," he continued smoothly, "would never believe the extreme difficulty with which one collects any particulars as to the home life of a guide. More than once I felt inclined to give up the task in despair. It seemed to me that a guide could have no home, that he must sleep in odd moments on a bench at the _Hôtel de Luxe_. I tried to fancy a guide in the bosom of his family, carving a Sunday joint, and surrounded by Mrs. Guide and the little Guides. I couldn't do it. It seemed to me somehow grotesque. Just as I was giving it up in despair, the commissionaire at a night café in Montmartre told me exactly what I wanted to know. He showed me the house where Johnny, as they called him, had a room." "You went there?" she asked. "I did," he answered. "It was locked up?" "On the contrary," he declared, "Mrs. or Miss Guide was at home, and very pleased to see me." "There was a woman there?" "Assuredly. Whether she is there now or not I cannot say, for it is three days ago, and to me she seemed nearer than that to death!" "And about this woman! What was she like? Was she his wife or his daughter?" "He called her his daughter. I am not sure about the relationship. She had been good-looking, I should say, but she was very ill." "What did she tell you--about the man Johnson?" "That he had gone to England to try to get some money. They were almost destitute! He was a good guide, she said, but people came so often to Paris, and they liked some one fresh. Then she coughed--how she coughed!" "Did she tell you to what part of England the man Johnson had gone?" "I asked her, but she was not sure. I do not believe that she knew. She said that there was some one in England who was very rich, and from whom he hoped to be able to get money." "Anything else?" "No! I spoke of myself as an old client of Johnny's, and I left money. Afterwards, at the café where I lunched, I found a commissionaire who told me more about our friend." "Ah! What was the name of the café?" "The Café de Paris!" She took up a screen and held it before her face. There seemed to be little need of it, however, for her cheeks were as pale as the white roses by her side. "This man Johnny, as they call him," Deyes continued, "seems to have had his ups and downs. One big stroke of luck he had, however, which seems to have kept him going for several years. The commissionaire was able to tell me something about it. Shall I go on?" he asked, dropping his voice a little. "I should like to know what the commissionaire told you," she answered. "Somehow or other this fellow, Johnny or Johnson as some of them called him, was recommended to a young lady, a very young lady, who was in Paris with an invalid chaperon." "Stop!" she cried.