“Really, Sir John,” she said, “I don’t know how to thank you. ’ The breathy laugh came, and Madame Valade abandoned her fan. With your permission, I will go on in my own way. Do you know, Ann Veronica, it is all a lie about your birth certificate; a forgery—and fooling at that. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. The kindly American consul-general had himself taken her to the bank, where her banknotes had been exchanged for a letter of credit, and had thoroughly advised her. “The thing I feel most disposed to say, Miss Stanley,” he began at last, “is that this is very sudden. He's now in spring-ankle warehouse with Sir Rowland Trenchard. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed. A few short, dark locks, escaping from beneath her head-dress, showed that her hair had been removed, and had only been recently allowed to grow again. Monsieur is going inside perhaps?” But Sir John’s eyes were still riveted upon the poster, and his heart was beating with unaccustomed force.
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