Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips. She could hardly remember his face except for his brown hair, thick lips, and narrow dark eyes. “I have heard of you, of course,” Anna answered hesitatingly, “but——” “You cannot imagine what I have come to see you about. Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. It was an odd little encounter, that left vague and dubitable impressions in her mind. Sheppard, with startling eagerness. But he wrote on. The bars dropped noiselessly and slowly down, till the chain tightened at the staple. The voices went into his ears but left no impression of their import.
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