t, he is leaving himself a very narrow margin of time to carry
out any enterprise worth speaking of."

Violet was thoughtful for several moments. Then she crossed the room,
took up a copy of an illustrated paper, and brought it across to Peter.
He smiled as he glanced at the picture to which she pointed, and the few
lines underneath.

"It has struck you, too, then!" he exclaimed. "Good! You have answered
me exactly as I hoped. Somehow, I scarcely trusted myself. I have both
cars waiting outside. We may need them. You won't mind coming to the
Empire with me?"

"Mind!" she laughed. "I only hope I may be in at the finish."

"If the finish," Peter remarked, "is of the nature which I anticipate, I
shall take particularly good care that you are not."

The curtain was rising upon the first act of the ballet as they entered
the most popular music-hall in London and were shown to the box which
Peter had engaged. The house was full--crowded, in fact, almost to
excess. They had scarcely taken their seats when a roar of applause
announced the coming of Mademoiselle Louise. She stood for a moment to
receive her nightly ovation, a slim, beautiful creature, looking out
upon the great house with that faint, bewitching smile at the corners of
her lips, which every photographer in Europe had striven to
reproduce. Then she moved away to the music, an exquisite figure, the
personification of all that was alluring in her sex. Violet leaned
forward to watch her movements as she plunged into the first dance.
Peter was occupied looking around the house. Monsieur Guillot was there,
sitting insolently forward in his box, sleek and immaculate. He even
waved his hand and bowed as he met Peter's eye. Somehow or other, his
confidence had its effect. Peter began to feel vaguely troubled. After
all, his plans were built upon a surmise. It was so easy for him to be
wrong. No man would show his hand so openly, unless he were sure of the
game. Then his face cleared a little. In the box adjoining Guillot's,
the figure of a solitary man was just visible, a man who had leaned over
to applaud Louise, but who was now sitting back in the shadows. Peter
recognized him at once, notwithstanding the obscurity. This was so much
to the good, at any rate. He took up his hat.

"For a quarter of an hour you will excuse me, Violet," he said. "Watch
Guillot. If he leaves his place, knock at the door of your own box, and
one of my men, who is outside, will come to y