earned of his affair with Miss Brokaw and had secured a
picture of her in some way, he would not presume to go this far. He was
convinced that Gregson had drawn the picture of a face that he had seen
that day. Again he read the words at the bottom of the sketch, and once
more he experienced their curious effect upon him--an effect which it
was impossible for him to analyze even in his own mind.

He replaced the picture upon the table and drew the handkerchief and
bit of lace from his pocket. In the light of the lamp he saw that both
were as unusual as had been the picturesque dress of the girl and her
companion. Even to his inexperienced eyes and touch they gave evidence
of a richness that puzzled him, of a fashion that he had never seen.
They were of exquisite workmanship. The lace was of a delicate ivory
color, faintly tinted with yellow. The handkerchief was in the shape of
a heart, and in one corner of it, so finely wrought that he could
barely make out the silken letters, was the word "Camille."

The scent of heliotrope rose more strongly in the closed room, and from
the handkerchief Philip's eyes turned to the face of Eileen Brokaw
looking at him from out of Gregson's sketch. It was a curious
coincidence. He reached over and placed the picture face down. Then he
loaded his pipe, and sat smoking, his vision traveling beyond the
table, beyond the closed door to the lonely black rock where he had
come upon Jeanne and Pierre. Clouds of smoke rose about him, and he
half closed his eyes. He saw the girl again, as she stood there; he saw
the moonlight shining in her hair, the dark, startled beauty of her
eyes as she turned upon him; he heard again the low sobbing note in her
voice as she cried out her hatred against Churchill. He forgot Eileen
Brokaw now, forgot in these moments all that he and Gregson had talked
of that day. His schemes, his fears, his feverish eagerness to begin
the fight against his enemies died away in thoughts of the beautiful
girl who had come into his life this night. It seemed to him now that
he had known her for a long time, that she had been a part of him
always, and that it was her spirit that he had been groping and
searching for, and could never find. For the space of those few moments
on the cliff she had driven out the emptiness and the loneliness from
his heart, and there filled him a wild desire to make her understand,
to talk with her, to stand shoulder to shoulder with Pierre out there