at my expense."

"I had a poor breakfast," Miss Brown remarked, complacently.

"You will leave at once," Peter Ruff said, "and you will go to the
French Cafe at the Milan. Get a table facing the courtyard, and towards
the hotel side of the room. Keep your eyes open and tell me exactly what
you see."

She looked at him with parted lips. Her eyes were full of eager
questioning.

"Mere skirmishing," Peter Ruff continued, "but I think--yes, I think
that it may lead to something."

"Whom am I to watch?" she asked.

"Any one who looks interesting," Peter Ruff answered. "For instance, if
this person Vincent Cawdor should be about."

"He would recognize me!" she declared.

Peter Ruff shrugged his shoulders.

"One must hold the candle," he remarked.

"I decline to flirt with him," she declared. "Nothing would induce me to
be pleasant to such an odious creature."

"He will be too busy to attempt anything of the sort. Of course he may
not be there. It may be the merest fancy on my part. At any rate, you
may rely upon it that he will not make any overtures in a public place
like the Milan. Mr. Vincent Cawdor may be a curious sort of person, but
I do not fancy that he is a fool!"

"Very well," Miss Brown said, "I will go."

"Be back soon after three," Peter Ruff said. "I am going up to my room
to do my exercises."

"And afterwards?" she asked.

"I shall have my lunch sent in," he answered. "Don't hurry back, though.
I shall not expect you till a quarter past three."

It was a few minutes past that time when Miss Brown returned. Peter Ruff
was sitting at his desk, looking as though he had never moved. He was
absorbed by a book of patterns sent in by his new tailor, and he only
glanced up when she entered the room.

"Violet," he said, earnestly, "come in and sit down. I want to consult
you. There is a new material here--a sort of mouse-coloured cheviot. I
wonder whether it would suit me?"

Violet was looking very handsome and a little flushed. She raised her
veil and came over to his side.

"Put that stupid book away, Peter," she said. "I want to tell you about
the Milan."

He leaned back in his chair.

"Ah!" he said. "I had forgotten! Was Mr. Vincent Cawdor there?"

"Yes!" she answered, still a little breathless. "There was some one else
there, too, in whom you are still more interested."

He nodded.

"Go on," he said.

"Mr. Vincent Cawdor," she continued, "came in alone. He looked just as
objection