seemed in no way perturbed. He turned and looked down with a smile at
her grave face.

"No," he replied. "Not very much."

"Why?"

"I do not know. There is something wrong about him, I think!"

She laughed and shook her head.

"What do you mean?" she asked. "How can there be anything wrong with
him--anything that would affect us, at all events?"

He shrugged his shoulders, still smiling.

"He says he is an Italian?"

"Yes," she replied.

"I say he is a Frenchman," said Christian, suddenly turning towards her.
"Italians do not talk English as he talks it."

She looked puzzled.

"Do you know him?" she asked.

"No; not yet. I know his face. I have seen it or a photograph of it
somewhere, and at some time. I cannot tell when or where yet, but it
will come to me."