But the first taste of spirit dispelled it. Very courteously Bertrand thanked him.
"You are a good man, Holmes. And I think that you are my friend, yes?"
"Very pleased to do anything I can for you, sir," said Holmes.
"Ah! Then I will ask of you one little thing. It is that you remember that this weakness--this malady of a moment--remain a secret between us two--between--us--two. _Vous comprenez; non_?"
His eyes, very bright and searching, looked with a certain peremptoriness into the man's face, and Holmes, accustomed to obey, made instinctive response.
"You mean as I am not to mention it to Mr. Mordaunt, sir?"
"Very good, sir," said Holmes. "You're feeling better, I hope, sir?"
Very slowly de Montville rose to his feet, and stood, holding to the back of his chair.
"I am--quite well," he said impressively.
"Very good, sir," said Holmes again, and withdrew, shaking his head dubiously as soon as he was out of the Frenchman's sight.
As for de Montville, he went slowly across to the window and, leaning against the sash, gazed down upon the empty street.
Not until he heard Mordaunt's step outside more than half an hour later did he move, and then very abruptly he returned to the writing-table and seized the pen anew. He was writing with feverish rapidity when Mordaunt entered.
Very quietly Mordaunt came up and looked over his shoulder. "My boy," he said, "I am very sorry, but that is not legible."
His tone was unreservedly kind, and Bertrand jerked up his head as if surprised.
He surveyed the page before him with pursed lips, then flashed a quick look into Mordaunt's face.
"It is true," he admitted, with a rueful smile. "I also am sorry."
"Leave it," Mordaunt said. "You are looking fagged, Yes, I mean it. It will keep."
"But I have done nothing!" Bertrand protested, with outspread hands.
"No? Well, I don't believe you ought to be doing anything at present. Come and sit down." Then, peremptorily, as Bertrand hesitated: "I won't have you overworking yourself. Understand that! I have had trouble enough to get you off the sick list as it is."
He spoke with that faint smile of his that placed most men at their ease with him. Bertrand turned impulsively and grasped his hand.
"You have been--you are--more than a brother to me, monsieur," he said, with feeling. "And I--I--ah! Permit me to tell you--I--am glad that Mademoiselle has placed herself in your keeping. It was a great surprise, yes. But I am glad--from my heart. She will be safe--and happy--with you."
