‘It is Yol—’ She broke off abruptly, her face collapsing into an expression of acute consternation. “Why not?” He asked. That held his thought as the magnet holds the needle, inescapably. She wondered what the problem was, why the buildup? She wanted to go to his apartment that evening but stayed herself. ” “Not long ago,” she said, “you left me in anger, partly because of this exchange of identities between Annabel and myself. ” Her mind went back to that treaty. It was Ramage, the occupant of the big house at the end of the Avenue. Suddenly the door of the flat opened and closed. He passed but a cursory glance over the formal certificate that identified the Frenchman before him as one André Valade, distant cousin to the Vicomte Valade. The thing rankled in her mind night and day. It may be useful to you.
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