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"Let's sit down," suggested Hugh wearily. "I'm sure that she's the same woman absolutely certain!" "You are quite confident you have made no mistake eh?" "Quite, my dear Walter. I'd know that woman among ten thousand. I only know that her surname is Ferad. Her Christian name I do not know." "And you suspect that she knows the secret of your father's death?"
Both men turned and before them they saw the plainly dressed figure of a beautiful woman, and behind her an elderly, grey-faced man. For a few seconds the woman stared at The Sparrow blankly. Then she turned her gaze upon Hugh. Her lips parted. Suddenly she gave vent to a loud cry, almost of pain, and placing both hands to her head, gasped: "Dieu!" It was Yvonne Ferad.
Unfortunately I have. Do you happen to know Yvonne Ferad?" "Of course. Everyone knows her. She is very charming. Nobody knows the truth." "What truth?" inquired Hugh quickly. "Well that she is a marque de ce." "A marque de ce what is that?" asked Hugh eagerly. "Ah! non, m'sieur. I must not tell you anything against her. You are her friend." "But I am endeavouring to find out something about her.
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