I
must also make Carlotta a small allowance.
During tea she said to me, suddenly:
"Seer Marcous is not married?"
I said, no. She asked, why not? The devil seems to be driving
all womankind to ask me that question.
"Because wives are an unmitigated nuisance," said I.
A curious smile came over Carlotta's face. It was as knowing as
Dame Quickly's.
"Then-"
"Have one of these cakes," said I, hurriedly. "There is
chocolate outside and the inside is chock-full of custard."
She bit, smiled in a different and beatific way, and forgot my
matrimonial affairs. I was relieved. With her oriental training
there is no telling what Carlotta might have said.
May 31st.
To-day I have had a curious interview. Who should call on me but
the father of the hapless Harry Robinson. My first question was
a natural one. How on earth did he connect me with the death of
his son? How did he contrive to identify me as the befriender of
the young Turkish girl whose interests, he declared, were the
object of his visit? It appeared that the police had given him
the necessary information, my adventures at Waterloo having
rendered their tracing of Carlotta an easy matter.
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