ou at once. He will know
where to find me."

Peter hurried away, pausing for a moment in the promenade, to scribble a
line or two at the back of one of his own cards. Presently he knocked
at the door of the box adjoining Guillot's and was instantly admitted.
Violet continued her watch. She remained alone until the curtain fell
upon the first act of the ballet. A few minutes later, Peter returned.
She knew at once that things were going well. He sank into a chair by
her side.

"I have messages every five minutes," he whispered in her ear, "and I am
venturing upon a bold stroke. There is still something about the affair,
though, which I cannot understand. You are absolutely sure that Guillot
has not moved?"

Violet pointed with her program across the house. "There he sits," she
remarked. "He left his chair as the curtain went down, but he could
scarcely have gone out of the box, for he was back within ten seconds."

Peter looked steadily across at the opposite box. Guillot was sitting
a little further back now, as though he no longer courted observation.
Something about his attitude puzzled the man who watched him. With a
sudden quick movement he caught up the glasses which stood by his wife's
side. The curtain was going up for the second act, and Guillot had
turned his head. Peter held the glasses only for a moment to his eyes,
and then glanced down at the stage.

"My God!" he muttered. "The man's a genius! Violet, the small motor is
coming for you."

He was out of the box in a single step. Violet looked after him,
looked down upon the stage and across at Guillot's box. It was hard to
understand.

The curtain had scarcely rung up upon the second act of the ballet when
a young lady who met from all the loungers, and even from the doorkeeper
himself, the most respectful attention, issued from the stage-door at
the Empire and stepped into the large motor car which was waiting, drawn
up against the curb. The door was opened from inside and closed at once.
She held out her hands, as yet ungloved, to the man who sat back in the
corner.

"At last!" she murmured. "And I thought, indeed, that you had forsaken
me."

He took her hands and held them tightly, but he answered only in a
whisper. He wore a sombre black cloak and a broad-brimmed black hat. A
muffler concealed the lower part of his face. She put her finger upon
the electric light, but he stopped her.

"I must not be recognized," he said thickly. "Forgive me,