Monsieur Segotin's Story
I sought in talk escape from the message of those eyes.
"And so," I said, "here you are safe and sound. When did you arrive and where are you staying?"
"I arrived," said M. Segotin, "nearly seven weeks ago, and I am staying with my sister."
"Your sister," I cried, "but of course. Where else? I wish I had known how to find that sister. She would have relieved my mind about you, perhaps."
"I think not," said he. "You see, for some little time past I have been dead and buried and in hell, and she and the little ones have known no more of my whereabouts than yourself. For the little ones are with her too."
"That, too," said I, "is good news. I wish I had known. I owe those two young ladies some kind memories which I would be glad to do something to repay. Well, it seems that it is not too late. Soon we must all dine together to celebrate this fortunate reunion. But when did they come to England?"
"At the very first of it," he said. "Indeed, earlier than that. I saw very clearly how things were going, and I dispatched them in the end of July. They were loath to go, but I was firm. My pretext was the slackness of business. Blankenberghe was emptying fast. Those people knew what was coming, and the homing instinct was strong upon them. It was this which would have convinced me had I needed to be convinced. But ever since that business at Sarajevo I had known in
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