She fell to humming a little French tune, then broke off.

"You remember? You promise? You have the letter?"

Asseverations apparently from mademoiselle, and a mention of eight
o'clock, followed by remorse from Kitty.

"Eight o'clock! And I keep you like this. I am a brute beast!
Allez--allez vite!" And quick steps scudded across the floor above,
followed by the shutting of a door.

Kitty, however, came back to the window, and Ashe could still hear her
sighing and talking to herself.

What had she been plotting? A letter? Conveyed by mademoiselle? To whom?

* * * * *

Long after all sounds above had ceased Ashe still lay awake, thinking of
the story he had heard from Lord Grosville. Certainly, if he had known
it, he would never have gone familiarly to Madame d'Estrées' house.
Laxity, for a man of his type, is one thing; lying, meanness, and
cruelty are another. What could be done for this poor child in her
strange and sinister position? He was ironically conscious of a sudden
heat of missionary zeal. For if the creature to be saved had not
possessed such a pair of eyes--so slim a neck--such a haunting and
teasing personality--what then?

The question presently plunged with him into sleep. But he had not
forgotten it when he awoke.