I was sure she was a modest girl, therefore, if she were of lowly birth, she would have hesitated to speak so plainly to Max.

So, despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I refused to be convinced that Yolanda was not Mademoiselle de Burgundy.

I loved the thought so dearly that I could not and would not part with it.

That night, while I lay pondering over the riddle, I determined to do no more guessing, and let the Fates solve it for me.

They might give me the answer soon if I would "give it up." The next evening we went to Castleman's house, but we did not see Yolanda.