"I must go, Mr Leaf," she said. "I must telegraph to my father and inform him of the _contretemps_ which has occurred. He will direct me how to act. But before I go I would like to thank you very very much for your great kindness and sympathy towards me. I am sure that, if possible, you would seek to assist me. But it is out of the question-- entirely out of the question. What must be, must be." And she put out her small hand to me in farewell. "There must, I am sure, be some way in which to evade this misfortune which you apprehend," I said. "At any rate we may meet again, may we not? Where shall you stay in London?" "I really don't know," she said, in a vague, blank manner which showed that she wished to evade me, fearing perhaps lest I might make unwelcome inquiries concerning her. "As to our meeting again, I hardly think such a course would be wise. My friendship might imperil you still further, therefore let us end it now, as pleasantly as it has commenced." "What do you mean?" I asked. "You will know what I mean, Mr Leaf, some day," she answered, with a strange look in her dark eyes. Then sighing she added: "Farewell." And I was compelled to take the hand she offered. Refusing to tell me where she lived, and holding out no fixed promise of returning, she at once went down with me to the front door. After I had bowed farewell and she had descended the steps, I closed the door, and was returning along the hall when suddenly Sammy emerged from the dining-room, where he had evidently been standing, and facing me with a strange, serious expression upon his features, such as I had never seen there before, asked:-- "Godfrey! what's that woman doing here--in this house? Do you know who she is? By Jove, you don't, that's certain, otherwise you would never have let her cross this threshold. Why has she dared to come here?" CHAPTER FIVE. THE VILLA DU LAC. "Look here, Sammy!" I exclaimed, when we were together in our little den a few minutes later, "what's the good of beating about the bush? Why don't you tell me straight out what you have against her?" "My dear fellow! surely it isn't for me to cast a slur upon any lady's character. I merely warn you that she has a very queer reputation-- that's all." And he stretched out his legs and blew a cloud of smoke from his lips. "Every woman seems to enjoy a reputation more or less queer nowadays," I declared. "Have you ever come across a woman about whom something detrimental was not whispered by her enemies? I haven't." "Perhaps you're right there, Godfrey," was my friend's reply. "You discovered the truth concerning Ina Hardwick, and that was a hard blow for you, eh? But didn't I give you a hint long before which you refused to take?" "And now you give me a hint regarding Lucie Miller. Well, tell me straight out--who and what she is." "First tell me why she came to see you."