"
He seemed to ponder my question, unshrinkingly. "I think not," he said,
at last. "I have had the desire for three months; I have known Madame
Blumenthal for less than twenty-four hours."
"Very true. But when you found this letter of yours on your place at
breakfast, did you seem for a moment to see Madame Blumenthal sitting
opposite?"
"Opposite?"
"Opposite, my dear fellow, or anywhere in the neighbourhood. In a word,
does she interest you?"
"Very much!" he cried, joyously.
"Amen!" I answered, jumping up with a laugh. "And now, if we are to see
the world in a month, there is no time to lose. Let us begin with the
Hardtwald."
Pickering rose, and we strolled away into the forest, talking of lighter
things. At last we reached the edge of the wood, sat down on a fallen
log, and looked out across an interval of meadow at the long wooded waves
of the Taunus. What my friend was thinking of I can't say; I was
meditating on his queer biography, and letting my wonderment wander away
to Smyrna. Suddenly I remembered that he possessed a portrait of the
young girl who was waiting for him there in a white-walled garden. I
asked him if he had it with him. He said nothing, but gravely took out
his pocket-book and drew forth a small photograph.
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