She spoke with cool certainty, and her black eyes were fixed upon Lexy with a far from pleasant expression. Lexy looked back at her with equal steadiness. “Mrs. Enderby,” she said, “I _don’t_ know.” Mrs. Enderby shrugged her shoulders. “Very well!” she said. “You do not know exactly where she has gone. _Bien, alors!_ You guess, eh?” “No,” answered Lexy, bewildered. “I don’t. I can’t.” “She has spoken to you of some—friend?” Seeing Lexy still frankly bewildered, Mrs. Enderby lost her patience. “The man!” she said. “Who is the man?” “I never heard Caroline speak of any man,” said Lexy. She spoke firmly enough, and she was telling the truth; but she remembered that telephone call, and the memory brought a faint flush into her cheeks. Mrs. Enderby did not fail to notice it. “Listen!” she said. “There is one thing you can do—only one thing. You can hold your tongue. Tell no one. Let no one know that Caroline is not here. You understand?” “But aren’t you going to—” “I am going to do nothing. You understand—nothing. There is to be no scandal in my house.” “But, Mrs. Enderby!” “Hush! No one must know of this. To-morrow morning I shall have a letter from Caroline.” “Oh!” said Lexy, with a sigh of genuine relief. “Oh, then you know where she’s gone!” “I?” replied Mrs. Enderby. “I know nothing. This has come to me from a clear sky. I have always tried to safeguard my child. I—” She paused for a moment, and for the first time Lexy pitied her. “It is the American blood in her,” Mrs. Enderby went on. “No French girl would treat her parents so; but in this country— She has gone with some fortune hunter. To-morrow I shall have a letter that she is married. ‘Please forgive me, _chère Maman_,’ she will say. ‘I am so happy. I, at nineteen, and of an ignorance the most complete, have made my choice without you.’ That is the American way, is it not? That is your ‘romance,’ eh? My one child—” Her voice broke. “No more!” she said. “It is finished. But—attend, Miss Moran! There must be no scandal. No one is to know that she is not here.” She turned and walked out of the room. Lexy sank into a chair. “I don’t care!” she said to herself. “She’s wrong—I know it! It’s not what she thinks. Caroline’s not like that. Something dreadful has happened!” III It seemed perfectly natural to be awakened in the morning by Mrs. Enderby’s hand on her shoulder, and to look up into Mrs. Enderby’s flashing black eyes. Lexy had gone to sleep dominated by the thought of that masterful woman. She vaguely remembered having dreamed of her, and when she opened her eyes—there she was. “Get up!” said Mrs. Enderby in a low voice. “Go into Caroline’s room. When Annie comes with the breakfast tray, take it from her at the door. I have told her that Caroline is ill with a headache. You understand?” “Yes, Mrs. Enderby,” answered Lexy.