“Naturally it would be a good match for the Count--for _any_ man,” said Eve; “but then it would also be a good match for Kitty. Of course, he is not so rich as some people, but he is rich.” Cecil examined the horizon with his glasses, and then the streets near the Grande Place. “Rich, is he? I’m glad of it. By the by, he’s gone to Ghent for the day, hasn’t he?” “Yes, he went by the 9.27, and returns by the 4.38.” Another pause. “Well,” said Cecil at length, handing the glasses to Eve Fincastle, “kindly glance down there. Follow the line of the Rue St. Nicolas. You see the cream-coloured house with the enclosed courtyard? Now, do you see two figures standing together near a door--a man and a woman, the woman on the steps? Who are they?” “I can’t see very well,” said Eve. “Oh, yes, my dear lady, you can,” said Cecil. “These glasses are the very best. Try again.” “They look like the Comte d’Avrec and Madame Lawrence,” Eve murmured. “But the Count is on his way from Ghent! I see the steam of the 4.38 over there. The curious thing is that the Count entered the house of Madame Lawrence, to whom he was introduced for the first time the day before yesterday, at ten o’clock this morning. Yes, it would be a very good match for the Count. When one comes to think of it, it usually is that sort of man that contrives to marry a brilliant and successful actress. There! He’s just leaving, isn’t he? Now let us descend and listen to the recital of his day’s doings in Ghent--shall we?” “You mean to insinuate,” Eve burst out in sudden wrath, “that the Count is an--an _adventurer_, and that Madame Lawrence---- Oh! Mr. Thorold!” She laughed condescendingly. “This jealousy is too absurd. Do you suppose I haven’t noticed how impressed you were with Kitty at the Devonshire Mansion that night, and again at Ostend, and again here? You’re simply carried away by jealousy; and you think because you are a millionaire you must have all you want. I haven’t the slightest doubt that the Count----” “Anyhow,” said Cecil, “let us go down and hear about Ghent.” His eyes made a number of remarks (indulgent, angry, amused, protective, admiring, perspicacious, puzzled), too subtle for the medium of words. They groped their way down to earth in silence, and it was in silence that they crossed the Grande Place. The Count was seated on the _terrasse_ in front of the hotel, with a liqueur glass before him, and he was making graceful and expressive signs to Kitty Sartorius, who leaned her marvellous beauty out of a first-storey window. He greeted Cecil Thorold and Eve with an equal grace. “And how is Ghent?” Cecil inquired.