Agatha's face was turned from Ermengarde; Cyrano's, full of emotion, was in the same direction, bent upon the lady's; one arm lay along the back of the bench behind her; his other almost encircled the figure turned from him; his hand was upon hers clasped on her lap; every line and gesture of the two figures indicated a situation of extreme poignancy; he was speaking in low tones of strong feeling, interrupted by sharp retorts of pain and indignation from her; there was clearly no place for a third person. But the superfluous third hardly knew how to remove herself without attracting attention; she had just risen for the purpose when Agatha, turning with quick anger to Cyrano, saw her. Ermengarde, wondering why everybody's invalid aunts should just then be staying clandestinely at Monte Carlo, bowed instinctively, and would have passed on, but that Agatha, with one of her sudden transitions to marble, came towards her with some calm and commonplace phrase, and obliged her to stop and reply. "Yes. This is the last train in time for dinner," Agatha said, as if nothing mattered more than missing a meal; "and it's growing cold. May I introduce Mr. Paul, my--my--that is, a--a----" "A connexion by marriage," Cyrano suggested, with what Ermengarde thought an odd expression. "Quite so; a connexion by marriage," she echoed, as if greatly relieved by this definition. "Mrs. Allonby travelled from Calais with me, Ivor. She has been most kind. We are--luckily for me--in the same pension." "Really? Awfully nice for you." Ermengarde was stunned. Here was the woman of mystery introducing and explaining _her_ to this disreputable young villain, whom she had scarcely acknowledged before, and appearing to welcome her intrusion on a too intimate _tête-à-tête_ with her "connexion by marriage," as an excuse for ending it. "I hope you found your invalid aunt better, Miss Somers," she murmured, with civil interest, when she recovered breath after Cyrano had been summarily dismissed. "My _aunt_!" she echoed, puzzled. "Or connexion--by marriage. You were to lunch with her in Mentone, you remember." "Oh, of course! I had forgotten. She--she was engaged; she only sees one person at a time. So I came on here." A flush came and quickly passed from the woman of mystery's statuesque features. Ermengarde marvelled at the readiness of her inventive powers, and reflected that a connexion by marriage sometimes means a good deal. "Your connexion," she said, "has not had the best luck this afternoon, did he tell you? It was he I overheard on that first evening at Les Oliviers talking to the thing with the black-leaded eyes. She was in the Casino with him to-day. He asked me to play for him, seeing I was new and lucky." "Yes? And you gave him luck?" "Only for that once. And the creature with the orange-coloured hair clawed it." "Poor boy! What a pity! Did you win much, Mrs. Allonby?"