o effort to occupy
or to amuse himself; he merely waited, and in due time the gods gave him
a sign--a telegraphic message, brief and concise as his own:

Come to-night at ten. She will be here.--MAX.

CHAPTER XXVI

At ten o'clock, punctual to the moment, Blake walked up the Escalier de
Sainte-Marie. All day a curious agitation compounded of elation and
impatience had lifted him as upon wings, but now that the hour had
arrived, doubt amounting almost to reluctance assailed his spirit. He
walked slowly, looking about him as though the way were strange; outside
the house in the rue Mueller he paused and glanced up at the fifth floor,
suddenly daunted, suddenly thrilled by the faint light coming mistily
through the open windows of the _salon_ and the studio.

What would she be like--this sister of Max? He strove ineffectually to
materialize the portrait, but it eluded him. Only the soul of the woman
seemed to have place in his imagination--the soul, seen through the
questioning eyes.

Still a victim to the strange, new reticence, he entered the open
doorway and began the familiar ascent. Here again the thought of the
woman obsessed him. How must this place appear to her? His thoughts
touched the varying scenes of Max's story--scenes of the girl's free
youth and sumptuous, exotic after-life. None fitted accurately with a
rue Mueller. Of a certainty she, as well as the boy, must have the
adventuring spirit!

His senses stirred, routing his diffidence, and under their spur he ran
up the remaining steps, only pausing at the fifth floor as a light voice
hailed him out of the dusk, a little flitting figure darted from the
shadows, and Jacqueline, brimming with suppressed excitement, caught him
by the arm.

"Monsieur Edouard!"

He laughed in recognition and greeting. "Well, Jacqueline! Always the
air of the grand secret! Always the air of the little bird that has
discovered the topmost bough of the tree! What is it to-night?"

His feelings were running riot; it was agreeable to spend them in
badinage. But Jacqueline slapped his hand in reproof.

"No pleasantries, monsieur! The affair is serious."

He smiled; he lowered his voice to the tone of hers. "You have a
visitor, then, Jacqueline, to this fifth floor of yours?"

Jacqueline nodded her blonde head, and again her excitement brimmed full
measure.

"Monsieur, she is here--the sister of M. Max! The princess!" She
whispered the last word--a whisper de