Carol said: "I'd love to go there. It sounds marvelous."

"Why I should say it was definitely worth seeing—yes, definitely worth seeing." Mr. Cope paused, shot a somewhat dubious glance at Mrs. Boynton, and then went on in a voice that to the listening Frenchman was palpably uncertain: "I wonder now if I couldn't persuade some of you people to come with me? Naturally I know you couldn't manage it, Mrs. Boynton, and naturally some of your family would want to remain with you; but if you were to divide forces, so to speak—"

He paused. Gerard heard the even click of Mrs. Boynton's knitting needles. Then she said: "I don't think we'd care to divide up. We're a very homey group." She looked up. "Well, children, what do you say?"

There was a queer ring in her voice. The answers came promptly: "No, Mother."

"Oh, no."

"No, of course not."

Mrs. Boynton said, smiling that very odd smile of hers: "You see—they won't leave me. What about you, Nadine? You didn't say anything."

"No, thank you, Mother, not unless Lennox cares about it."

Mrs. Boynton turned her head slowly towards her son. "Well, Lennox, what about it; why don't you and Nadine go? She seems to want to."

He started. Looked up.

"I—well—no, I—I think we'd better all stay together." Mr. Cope said genially: "Well, you are a devoted family!" But something in his geniality rang a little hollow and forced.

"We keep to ourselves," said Mrs. Boynton. She began to wind up her ball of wool. "By the way, Raymond, who was that young woman who spoke to you just now?"

Raymond started nervously. He flushed, then went white. "I—I don't know her name. She—she was on the train the other night."

Mrs. Boynton began slowly to try and heave herself out of her chair. "I don't think we'll have much to do with her," she said.

Nadine rose and assisted the old woman to struggle out of her chair. She did it with a professional deftness that attracted Gerard's attention.

"Bedtime," said Mrs. Boynton. "Good night, Mr. Cope."

"Good night, Mrs. Boynton. Good night, Mrs. Lennox."

They went off—a little procession. It did not seem to occur to any of the younger members of the party to stay behind.

Mr. Cope was left looking after them. The expression on his face was an odd one.

As Dr. Gerard knew by experience, Americans are disposed to be a friendly race. They have not the uneasy suspicion of the traveling Briton. To a man of Dr. Gerard's tact, making the acquaintance of Mr. Cope presented few difficulties. The American was lonely and was, like most of his race, disposed to friendliness. Dr. Gerard's card-case was again to the fore.

Reading the name on it, Mr. Jefferson Cope was duly impressed.

"Why surely. Dr. Gerard, you were over in the States not very long ago?"

"Last Autumn. I was lecturing at Harvard."

"Of course. Yours, Dr. Gerard, is one of the most distinguished names in your profession. You're pretty well at the head of your subject in Paris."