The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.

"Who knows! It is an evil world, Mademoiselle Erica, as you will
realize when you have lived in it as long as I have. But I detain
you. Good bye. AU REVOIR!"

He took off his hat with a flourish, and passed on.

Erica, feeling baffled and a little cross, hurried home. M. Noirol
had not teased her today, but he had been inscrutable and tiresome,
and he had made her feel uneasy. She opened the front door, and
went at once to her father's study, pausing for a moment at the
sound of voices within. She recognized, however, that it was her
cousin, Tom Craigie, who was speaking, and without more delay she
entered. Then in a moment she understood why M. Noirol had been so
mysterious. Tom was speaking quickly and strongly, and there was
a glow of anger on his face. Her father was standing with his back
to the mantlepiece, and there was a sort of cold light in his eyes,
which filled Erica with dismay. Never in the most anxious days had
she seen him look at once so angry, yet as weighed down with care.

"What is the matter?" she questioned, breathlessly, instinctively
turning to Tom, whose hot anger was more approachable.

"The scamp of a Christian has gone bankrupt," he said, referring to
the defendant in the late action, but too furious to speak very
intelligibly.

"Mr. Cheale, you mean?" asked Erica.