"Ah, Mademoiselle," he said, "I must speak to you now of strange things. But, first, I must implore you to promise me this, and remember it always. Every word that I am going to say to you now must remain for the present a profound secret. That is agreed?"
"Your brother," he continued, "in his travels on the Continent stumbled by chance upon a State secret of international importance. He had himself no idea of it, but a chance word which he let fall, on the first evening I met him, gave the clue to myself and some friends. In his enforced retirement we--that is, my uncle and others--learned from him the whole story of his adventure. It has placed the Government of this country under great obligations. This, together with your service to us, has secured his pardon."
"It is not all," he continued. "The spies of the country where he learnt this secret have followed him to Paris. They are to-day searching for him everywhere. If they knew that he realized the importance of what he had seen, and had communicated it to the proper persons here, our advantage in knowing it would be largely lost. So far they have not traced him. Now, I think that you have the key to what must have puzzled you so much."
"This is wonderful!" she murmured. "Let me think for a moment."
"You are naturally anxious," the Vicomte continued, "to see your brother. Before very long, Mademoiselle, I trust that it may be my pleasure to bring you together. But when I tell you that you are watched continually in the hope that, through you, your brother's hiding-place may be found, you will understand the wisdom which for the present keeps you apart."
"I suppose so," she answered dubiously. "But now that his death is reported?"
"Exactly, Mademoiselle. The affair has been arranged so that the search for your brother will be abandoned and the espionage on you removed. If the story of his doings in Paris, and the tragic sequel to them, be believed by those whom we wish to believe it, then they will also assume that his secret has died with him, and that their schemes move on towards success. You understand?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Vicomte, I understand," she answered slowly. "What, then, do you wish me to do?"
"Mademoiselle," the Vicomte answered, fixing his dark eyes impressively upon her, "for you there remains the hardest of all tasks--inaction. Believe me that when I came here, it was not my intention to put the truth of the matter so plainly before you. Neither was it the will of those whose orders I carry out. But I, Mademoiselle, before all things, I believe in inspiration. I find in Mademoiselle"--he bowed once more--"qualities which alter the situation. I--a judge of faces as I venture to believe myself--have looked into yours, and many things have happened."