y soul. I was a fool! Why am I here,
when I should be where he----What is the hour? Why, it is scarcely
twelve o'clock! Did I say nine in my letter? What does it matter? I
wonder if on that wonderful night--Gounod translated its glory into
music--Juliet kept her lover waiting for three hours."

"What are you doing?" cried Phyllis, rising.

Ella had picked up her theatre wrap--it was a summer cloud brocaded with
golden threads of quivering sunlight, and had flung it around her.

She held out a hand to Phyllis. Phyllis grasped her round the waist.

"Where are you going?" she said.

"To hell!"

She had whispered the words, and at their utterance Phyllis gave a cry
of horror and covered her face with her hands.

Had she seen a suggestion of the satyr in the expression of that lovely
face before her?

In the pause that followed the sound of footsteps upon the stairs
outside was heard; the sound of footsteps and of men's friendly
laughter. Some persons were in the act of ascending.

"My God!" whispered Ella. "He has followed me here!"

"Hush!" said Phyllis. "Papa is bringing someone to us."

"Whom--whom?"

They were both standing together in the middle of the room, both having
their eyes fixed on the door, when the door opened and Mr. Ayrton
appeared, having by his side a man with iron-gray hair and a curiously
pallid face.

At the sight of that man Ella's hands, that had been holding her wrap
close to her throat, feeling for its silver clasp, fell limp, and the
splendid mass of white brocade slipped to the floor and lay in folds
about her feet, revealing her lovely figure sparkling from the hem of
her dress to the top of her shapely head.

CHAPTER XXI.

THAT TOILET SHOULD NOT HAVE BEEN WASTED.

For several seconds the tableau remained unchanged: the two women
standing side by side, the two men motionless at the half-open door.

Ella was staring at the man who had entered with Mr. Ayrton. There was
some apprehension in her eyes.

The man had his eyes fixed upon her. But his face was wholly devoid of
expression.

Phyllis was the first to break the silence that made a frame, so to
speak, for the picture.

"How do you do, Mr. Linton?" she said, taking a step toward the door.

"I am very well, thank you, Miss Ayrton," the man replied, shaking hands
with her. "Rather a singular hour for a visit, is it not?"

"Oh, no! only Ella didn't tell me that you----"

She turned to Ella, and noticed that the