" Mr. ‘That is not your affair. You see, my riddle is solved. That was supposed to be Madame Valade. "I did all for the best, as I'll explain. “Do you mean, aunt,” she asked, “that my father thought I had gone off—with some man?” “What else COULD he think? Would any one DREAM you would be so mad as to go off alone?” “After—after what had happened the night before?” “Oh, why raise up old scores? If you could see him this morning, his poor face as white as a sheet and all cut about with shaving! He was for coming up by the very first train and looking for you, but I said to him, ‘Wait for the letters,’ and there, sure enough, was yours. I'm a bit daffy about music. Gosse had moved forward, his pistol arm out straight, his aim true, the gun cocked. I may prevail upon them to take you in until you are full-fledged, providing you do not find this aunt. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see.
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