ery much," she answered. "It must have been somewhere else!"

She was unreasonably disappointed. It had been a very slender chance,
but at least it was something tangible. She had scarcely expected to
have it snapped so soon and so thoroughly. She dropped her veil to hide
the tears which she felt were not far from her eyes, and summoned the
waiter for her bill. There seemed to be no object in staying longer.
Suddenly the unexpected happened.

A hand, flashing with jewels, was rested for a moment upon her table.
When it was withdrawn a scrap of paper remained there.

Phyllis looked up in amazement. The girl to whom the hand had belonged
was sitting at the next table, but her head was turned away, and she
seemed to be only concerned in watching the door. She drew the scrap of
paper towards her and cautiously opened it. This is what she read,
written in English, but with a foreign turn to most of the letters:--

"Monsieur Albert lied. Your brother was here. Wait till I
speak to you."

Instinctively she crumpled up this strange little note in her hand. She
struggled hard to maintain her composure. She had at once the idea that
every one in the place was looking at her. Monsieur Albert, indeed, on
his way down the room wondered what had driven the hopeless expression
from her face.

The waiter brought her bill. She paid it and tipped him with prodigality
which for a woman was almost reckless. Then she ordered coffee, and
after a second's hesitation cigarettes. Why not? Nearly all the women
were smoking, and she desired to pass for the moment as one of them. For
the first time she ventured to gaze at her neighbor.

It was the young lady from Vienna. She was dressed in a wonderful
demi-toilette of white lace, and she wore a large picture hat adjusted
at exactly the right angle for her profile. From her throat and bosom
there flashed the sparkle of many gems--the finger which held her
cigarette was ablaze with diamonds. She leaned back in her seat smoking
lazily, and she met Phyllis's furtive gaze with almost insolent
coldness. But a moment later, when Monsieur Albert's back was turned,
she leaned forward and addressed her rapidly.

"A man will come here," she said, "who could tell you, if he was
willing, all that you seek to know. He will come to-night--he comes all
the nights. You will see I hold my handkerchief so in my right hand.
When he comes I shall drop it--so!"

The girl's swift speech, her half-fea