That night Laura made up her mind to speak to Mr. Dexter as soon as possible about the subject that was uppermost in her mind. She longed to ask her father or her aunt why it was that this old gentleman, whom they had been brought up to avoid, should suddenly appear before them in Paris as her father’s friend and guest, but when on the following day she ventured to broach the subject, she was told so peremptorily that little children should not ask questions, that she did not venture to repeat her attempt, but determined to await an opportunity to speak to Mr. Dexter himself. That opportunity soon offered itself, for the old gentleman became a frequent visitor at the hotel, calling upon her father almost every day and either going out with him or else remaining for long and close conversations. Miss Van Kuren went with them in their journeys or joined them in their talk, but it was some days before Laura found the chance for which she was looking so anxiously.
One morning the old gentleman arrived just after the whole of the Van Kuren family, excepting Laura, had gone out and it was she therefore who received him in the private parlor. Mr. Dexter seated himself in an easy chair by the fire and entered into conversation with the young girl regarding her lessons, her friends in America and the amusement which she found in Paris. This was the chance she had been waiting for, and with an air of deep mystery she said.
“Mr. Dexter there was a very curious thing that happened some time ago and if I tell you I want you to promise me not to say anything about it to anybody not even to papa, and particularly not to Harry.” In her eagerness she forgot the agreement she had made with Bruce, an agreement which had more than once prevented him from speaking of the subject to friends and others who might have aided him in his search.
“Certainly my dear, I will make that promise,” replied Mr. Dexter, with a beneficent smile, “now tell me what this mysterious thing is. I assure you I am very anxious to know.”
Then Laura told him the story with which my readers have been already made familiar—she described to him their acquaintance with Bruce and repeated what he had told her in regard to the old house and his instant recognition of it. As she proceeded, the old gentleman’s interest in her story grew stronger and stronger, and when she ended he wiped the perspiration from his forehead with a hand that was by no means steady and exclaimed “What you tell me is very strange indeed! I remember the young man very well. He came up to my house one day to get some magazines and papers that I had there; and so he found Harry that very day did he? Well my dear, I scarcely know what to think of it, for strangely enough his story fits in with certain other things that I have learned within a year and makes it more than possible that—but after all what is the use of allowing such thoughts to enter my head?” and breaking off abruptly he rose from his chair pacing slowly up and down the floor talking indistinctly to himself as he did so.