“Come now,” said Fandor encouragingly, “I know an excellent way of assisting the memory. The eyes are like sensitive photographic plates: what the brain does not always retain, the mirror of the eye registers... do not try to remember, but try, as it were, to read on white paper what your eyes saw! Let us sit down a minute and I will help you to do it!” Fandor pointed out a wooden seat, under the trees, in front of which was a garden table. They sat down together and Fandor drew from his pocket a sheet of white paper and his fountain pen.

Elizabeth’s arm touched his shoulder.

As though electrified by this contact, the two young people trembled, their eyes met in a glance full of troubled emotion – a feeling new to both – whose immense significance neither understood. Fandor remained speechless, and Elizabeth blushed.

They gazed at each other, embarrassed, not knowing what to say for themselves; and their embarrassment was only relieved by the appearance of the sister, who attended to the turning box at the entrance gate. She stood at the top of the steps leading down to the park and called Elizabeth.

“Mademoiselle! Mademoiselle! There is someone on the telephone who wishes to speak to you!” Fandor rose.

“Will you allow me to accompany you, mademoiselle? I am very curious to know whether the person now asking for you is the same person who asked for you a little while ago...”

The young couple hurried to the big parlour, and Elizabeth went to the telephone.

“Hello?”

Elizabeth had handed one of the receivers to Fandor.

He heard a voice – an unknown voice, but beyond question masculine – who said, over the wire:

“Hello!... Is it really Mademoiselle Dollon to whom I have the honour of speaking?”

“Yes, monsieur. Who is speaking to me?”

But just as Elizabeth was about to repeat her question, Fandor thought he heard whoever had called up Elizabeth, hang up the receiver. No reply reached them!

Elizabeth cried impatiently:

“Hello!... Hello!... Who is speaking to me?” But there was no one at the end of the line!

Fandor swore softly to himself, then seizing the two receivers he called:

“Hello! Come, monsieur, reply !... What do you want! Who are you?”

He could not obtain any reply.

Fandor rang up the central office. When the telephone girl answered, he called:

“Mademoiselle, why have you cut me off?”

“But I have done nothing of the kind, monsieur!”

“But I cannot get any reply!”

“It is because the receivers have been hung up by whoever called you. I assure you that is so.”

“What was my caller’s number?

“I cannot tell you that, monsieur – the rules forbid it.”

Fandor knew this quite well, so he did not insist further. But, as he turned away from the telephone, a dull anger smouldered within him.