“To give March a muff?”

“Precisely.”

“I perceive that you will make that an excuse. Léon goes with you?”

“As you say, Léon goes with me.”

“I had meant to ask you once again to give him to me.”

The Duke fanned himself with an air, handling the chicken-skin like a woman.

“I really could not permit it, my dear; it would be most improper.”

Hugh looked sharply up at him.

“Now, what mean you by that, Justin?”

“Is it possible that you have been hoodwinked? Dear, dear!”

“You’ll explain, if you please!”

“I had come to think you omniscient,” sighed his Grace. “You have had Léon in your care for eight days, and you are as innocent of his deception as you were when I first introduced him to your notice.”

“You mean?”

“I mean, my dear, that Léon is Léonie.”

Davenant threw up his hands.

“You knew, then!”

His Grace stopped fanning himself.

“I knew? I knew from the first. But you?”

“Perhaps a week after he came here. I hoped that you knew nothing.”

“Oh, my dear Hugh!” Avon shook with gentle laughter. “You thought me guileless! I forgive you only because you have restored my faith in your omniscience.”

“I never dreamed that you suspected!” Hugh took a few quick steps across the room and back again. “You’ve hidden it well!”

“So also have you, my dear.” Avon resumed his fanning.

“What was your object in allowing the deception to go on?”

“What was yours, oh worthy Hugh?”

“I dreaded lest you should discover the truth! I wanted to take the child away from you.”

His Grace smiled slowly, eyes nearly shut.

“The fan expresses my emotions. I must kiss March’s hands and feet. Metaphorically speaking.” He waved the fan gently to and fro.

Davenant glared at him for a moment, annoyed at his nonchalance. Then an unwilling laugh broke from him.

“Justin, pray put that fan away! If you know that Léon is a girl what will you do? I beg that you will give her to me——”

“My dear Hugh! Bethink you, you are but thirty-five—quite a child still. It would be most improper. Now, I—I am over forty. A veteran, and therefore harmless.”

“Justin——” Hugh came to him, and laid a hand on his arm. “Will you sit down, and talk this over—quietly and reasonably?”

The fan paused.

“Quietly? But did you imagine that I wished to bawl at you?”

“No. Don’t be flippant, Justin. Sit down.”

Avon went to a chair, and sat upon its arm.

“When you become excited, my dear, you remind me of an agitated sheep. Quite irresistible, believe me.”

Hugh controlled a quivering lip, and seated himself opposite the Duke. Avon stretched out his hand to where a small spindle-legged table stood and pulled it into place between himself and Davenant.

“So. I am now reasonably safe. Continue, Hugh.”

“Justin, I am not jesting——”

“Oh, my dear Hugh!”

“—and I want you also to be serious. Put away that damned fan!”

“It incites you to wrath? If you assault me I shall summon assistance.” But he shut the fan, and held it so, between his hands. “I am all attention, beloved.”

“Justin, you and I are friends, are we not? Let us for once have plain speaking!”

“But you always speak plainly, dear Hugh,” murmured his Grace.

“You’ve been kind—ay, I admit that—to little Léon; you’ve permitted him to take many liberties with you. At times I’ve hardly recognized you with him. I thought—well, never mind that. And all the while you knew he was a girl.”

“You are becoming rather involved,” remarked Avon.

“She, then. You knew she was a girl. Why have you allowed her to keep up the pretence? What do you mean by her?”

“Hugh——” Avon tapped the table with his fan. “Your painful anxiety impels me to inquire—what do you mean by her?”

Davenant looked his disgust.

“My God, do you think you are amusing? I mean this: That I will have her away from you if it costs me my life.”

“This becomes interesting,” said Avon. “How will you have her away from me, and why?”

“You can ask that? I never thought you were a hypocrite, Justin.”

Avon unfurled his fan.

“If you were to ask me, Hugh, why I permit myself to bear with you I could not tell you.”

“My manners are atrocious. I know it. But I’ve an affection for Léon, and if I allowed you to take her, innocent as he is——”

“Careful, Hugh, careful!”

“Oh, she, then! If I allowed that—I——”

“Calm yourself, my dear. If I did not fear that you would mutilate it I would lend you my fan. May I make known mine intentions.”

“It’s what I want!”

“I should not have guessed that, somehow. Strange how one may be mistaken. Or even how two may be mistaken. It will surprise you to hear that I am fond of Léon.”

“No. She will make a beautiful girl.”

“Remind me one day to teach you how to achieve a sneer, Hugh. Yours is too pronounced, and thus is but a grimace. It should be but a faint curl of the lips. So. But to resume. You will at least be surprised to hear that I had not thought of Léonie in the light of a beautiful girl.”

“It amazes me.”

“That is much better, my dear. You are an apt pupil.”

“Justin, you are impossible. This is no laughing matter!”

“Certainly not. You see in me—a strict guardian.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I am taking Léonie to England, where I shall place her ’neath my sister’s wing until I have found some discreet lady who will act the part of duenna to my ward, Mademoiselle Léonie de Bonnard. Again the fan expresses my emotions.” He performed a sweep in the air with it, but Hugh was staring in open-mouthed wonderment.

“Your—your ward! But—why?”

“Oh, my reputation!” mourned his Grace. “A whim, Hugh, a whim!”

“You’ll adopt her as your daughter?”

“As my daughter.”

“For how long? If it be a whim only——”

“It is not. I have a reason. Léonie will not leave me until—let us say until she finds a more fitting home.”

“Until she marries, you mean?”

The thin black brows twitched suddenly together.

“I did not mean that, but let it stand. All that signifies is that Léonie is as safe in my care as she would be in—I will say yours, for want of a better simile.”

Hugh rose.

“I—you—Good God, Justin, are you jesting?”

“I believe not.”

“You seriously mean what you say?”

“You seem dazed, my dear.”

“More like a sheep than ever, then,” retorted Hugh, with a quick smile, and held out his hand. “If you are honest now—and I think you are——”

“You overwhelm me,” murmured his Grace.

“—you are doing something that is——”

“—quite unlike anything I have ever done before.”

“Something that is damned good!”

“But then you do not know my motives.”

“I wonder if you yourself know your motives?” Hugh said quietly.

“Very obscure, Hugh. I flatter myself that I do know—full well.”

“I am not so certain.” Hugh sat down again. “Ay, you’ve amazed me. What now? Does Léon know that you have discovered his—her—fiend seize it, I am becoming involved again!—sex?”

“She does not.”

Hugh was silent for a few moments.

“Perhaps she will not wish to remain with you when you tell her,” he said at last.

“It is possible, but she is mine, and she must do as I bid her.”

Suddenly Hugh rose again, and went to the window.

“Justin, I don’t like it.”

“May I ask why you do not like it?”

“She—she is too fond of you.”

“Well?”

“Would it not be kinder to make some arrangement—send her away?”

“Whither, my conscientious one?”

“I don’t know.”

“How helpful! As I do not know either I think we may safely banish that notion.”

Hugh turned, and came back to the table.

“Very well. I trust no harm will come of this, Justin. When shall you—put an end to her boyhood?”

“When we arrive in England. You see, I am deferring that moment as long as may be.”

“Why?”

“One reason, my dear, is that she might feel shy of me in her boy’s raiment when once I knew the secret. The other—the other——” He paused, and studied his fan, frowning. “Well, let us be honest. I have grown fond of Léon, and I do not want to exchange him for Léonie.”

“I thought so,” Hugh nodded. “Be kind to Léonie, Justin.”

“It is my intention,” bowed the Duke.

CHAPTER IX

Léon and Léonie

Early in the next week Davenant left Paris for Lyons. On the same day Avon summoned his maître d’hôtel, Walker, to his presence, and informed him that he was leaving France on the morrow. Well accustomed to his master’s sudden decisions, Walker felt no surprise. He was a discreet personage with an unyielding countenance. For many years he had been in the Avon employ, and as he had proved himself to be scrupulously honest and trustworthy, the Duke had placed him in charge of his Paris establishment. As his Grace owned another establishment in St. James’s Square, London, and kept both open and staffed with servants, this post was one of considerable importance. It was Walker’s duty to keep the Hôtel Avon in such strictness and order that it should always be ready for the Duke or for his brother.

When Walker left the library he went below-stairs to inform Gaston, the valet, Meekin, the groom, and Léon, the page, that they must hold themselves in readiness to depart from Paris to-morrow morning. He found Léon seated on the table in the housekeeper’s room, swinging his legs and munching a slice of cake. Madame Dubois was sitting in a large chair before the fire, dolefully regarding him. She welcomed Walker with a coy smile, for she was a comely woman, but Léon, having cast one glance towards the prim figure in the doorway, tilted his head a little, and went on eating.