“I can be discreet, Monsieur.”

“And Marie?”

“Marie also. I will answer for her.”

“That is well then,” murmured the Comte.

When Hipolyte had withdrawn, the Comte sipped his black coffee with a reflective air. Occasionally he frowned, once he shook his head slightly, twice he nodded it. Into the midst of these cogitations came Hipolyte once more.

“A lady, Monsieur.”

“A lady?”

The Comte was surprised. Not that a visit from a lady was an unusual thing at the Villa Marina, but at this particular moment the Comte could not think who the lady was likely to be.