fancy because this man's presence here was an entire surprise
to you, and because you find me already on his track, that I know more
than you do and that an alliance with me would be to your advantage.
You would try to persuade me that your object with him would not be
my object. Listen. I am afraid of you--you are too clever for me. I am
going to leave you in sole possession."

De Grost's tone was final and his bow valedictory. Bernadine watched him
stroll in a leisurely way through the foyer, exchanging greetings here
and there with friends, watched him enter the cloakroom, from which he
emerged with his hat and overcoat, watched him step into his automobile
and leave the restaurant. He turned back with a clouded face, and threw
himself into an easy chair.

Ten minutes passed uneventfully. People were passing backwards and
forwards all the time, but Bernadine, through his half-closed eyes, did
little save watch the couple in whom he was so deeply interested. At
last the man rose, and, with a word of farewell to his companion, came
out from the lounge, and made his way up the foyer, turning toward the
hotel. He walked with quick, nervous strides, glancing now and then
restlessly about him. In his eyes, to those who understood, there was
the furtive gleam of the hunted man. It was the passing of one who was
afraid.

The woman, left to herself, began to look around her with some
curiosity. Bernadine, to whom a new idea had occurred, moved his chair
nearer to hers, and was rewarded by a glance which certainly betrayed
some interest. A swift and unerring judge in such matters, he came
to the instant conclusion that she was not unapproachable. He acted
immediately and upon impulse. Rising to his feet, he approached her, and
bowed easily but respectfully.

"Madame," he said, "it is impossible that I am mistaken. I have had the
pleasure, have I not, of meeting you in St. Petersburg?"

Her first reception of his coming was reassuring enough. At his mention
of St. Petersburg, however, she frowned.

"I do not think so," she answered, in French. "You are mistaken. I do
not know St. Petersburg."

"Then it was in Paris," Bernadine continued, with conviction. "Madame is
Parisian, without a doubt."

She shook her head, smiling.

"I do not think that I remember meeting you, Monsieur," she replied,
doubtfully, "but perhaps--"

She looked up, and her eyes dropped before his. He was certainly a very
personable looking man, a