“My dear, I’m afraid--very much afraid, you may find that’s true.” Then Pamela said:-- “It’s awkward for us, isn’t it? Papa has been kind to us, but--we want to see our mother. And--neither Miss Willett nor we like Miss Candover. Now what are we to do? What can you do to help us? Do you think papa would listen to you?” “I’m _sure_ he wouldn’t,” answered Audrey with decision. “But we must find out something about this aunt before we let her have the care of you two girls.” There was a pause and they all three sat, with anxiety on their faces, while Audrey debated with herself as to the steps she ought to take. Should she send the girls back to Miss Willett at the flat in Victoria Street, with a note advising her to take the girls at once to Windsor with her, and a warning not to let them go out of her custody on any account? Against this plan there was the fear that the “three or four friends” spoken of by Pamela as waiting for Mr. Candover at the flat might really be persons whom it was better that the girls should not meet. Mr. Candover was evidently desperate, to have conceived the idea of shooting Gerard. Might it not be that the “friends” were really detectives waiting for an opportunity to arrest him? The possibility was not lightly to be dismissed. And Audrey was on the point of suggesting that she should telegraph to Miss Willett or dispatch a messenger to ask her to meet them at Paddington station, when her attention was attracted by the sound of a key grating in the lock of a door, and a rapid step across the floor of the inner showroom. “Hush! It’s Mademoiselle Laure!” she said, having already caught sight of the reflection of the Frenchwoman in the long mirror against the wall. The next moment Mademoiselle Laure appeared in the doorway between the two rooms. The two young girls turned towards her, and both uttered an exclamation, while Pamela started to her feet. “Aunt!” she cried. Audrey turned pale, and Mademoiselle Laure, after making a feeble attempt to retreat, remained standing without a word, with an angry flush in her face, and her lips tightly pressed together. Audrey had risen also. “Mademoiselle Laure,” she said, “or Miss Candover, which am I to call you?” The woman came forward into the room, recovering herself and trying to smile at the girls. “Oh, Madame,” she said, as she advanced her face to kiss Babs, who stood up straight and stiff, resenting the embrace, “you may call me whichever you please. I answer to both names: to that of Laure, the Frenchwoman, when you are Madame Rocada, the countess. To that of Candover when you are--Mrs. Angmering.” It was the first time that Audrey had ever heard her speak any language but French, but after the revelations she had heard, she was surprised at nothing. The girls, meanwhile, were evidently uneasy and disturbed. They remained close to Audrey, Babs in particular showing open dislike of her aunt, who turned to the elder girl and said:--