"Tell me what has become of Mr.Delora ?" My sudden attack was foiled with the consummate ease of a master--if, indeed, the man was not genuine.
"Mr.Delora!" he repeated.

"Is he not staying here,--he and his niece?
I have been looking for them to come into luncheon." "His niece is here," I answered.

"Mr.Delora never arrived." Louis then did a thing which I have never seen him do before or afterwards,--he dropped something which he was carrying! It was only a wine carte, and he stooped and picked it up at once with a word of graceful apology.

But I noticed that when he once more stood erect, the exercise of stooping, so far from having brought any flush into his face, seemed to have driven from it every atom of color.
"You mean that Mr.Delora went elsewhere, Monsieur ?" he asked.
I shook my head.
"They travelled up from Folkestone," I said, "in my carriage.

At Charing Cross Mr.Delora, who had been suffering, he said, from sea-sickness, and who was certainly very nervous and ill at ease, jumped out before the train had altogether stopped and hurried off to get a hansom to come on here.