"
"Well, perhaps you know, then, there's a big hotel at Paso Robles and a
'cure.' I never heard of it before--but apparently it's famous. If you
stop there try and find out about a Mademoiselle Dobieski, and see her if
you can."
"Who is she?" Angela asked. "The name sounds dimly familiar, as if she
were an actress or a dancer, or somebody one has heard of."
"She _was_ a singer. She _is_ Mr. Falconer's romance. I'd give a good deal
to see her."
"I suppose you will, if she's a friend of his, and you're going to Paso
Robles in his private car."
"No. I won't be allowed. He's sending Mrs. Harland and me straight on to
Del Monte, and then to San Francisco. He'll follow; and afterward he's
going to take us to Shasta, and the McCloud River, where they say he has
the most fascinating country house in the world. I shall probably have a
relapse when I see it."
"I remember now," said Angela. "There was a Polish girl who sang in
concerts, and then made her _debut_ in opera in London. I never saw or
heard her, but people used to say she was divine. Then she went back to
Russia, three or four years ago, and seemed to vanish into space."
"She vanished into Siberia," replied Miss Dene. "Meanwhile, Mr. Falconer
had had time to fall in love with her in London, just before she took her
Russian engagement.
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