r removed from your orbit as Mars' is from
Jupiter's. Forget her."

"My orbit is not limited. I shall seek her; when I find her I
shall ... marry her."

But her lips closed again.

"Sphinx!" he murmured with reproach.

"I like you too much, Mr. Hillard, to stand by and see you break your
heart against a stone wall."

"Don't you see, the deeper the mystery is the more powerful the
attraction becomes?"

The door to the lift opened and closed noisily, and Hillard turned
negligently. A man sauntered through the room. The moment he came into
the light Hillard's interest became lively enough: It was the handsome
Italian with the scar.

"Who is that man?" he whispered. "Only a few weeks ago I bumped into him
on coming out of the club."

A swift glance, then her eyes grew unfriendly, her shoulders rigid and
repellent.

"Do not attract his attention," she answered in a low tone. "Yes, I know
him, and I do not wish him to see me."

"Who is he?" he repeated.

"A Venetian officer, and a profligate. I entertained him once, but I
learned from him that I had been ill-advised."

Hillard saw that this subject would admit of no further questions. The
man with the scar had committed some inexcusable offense, and Mrs.
Sandford had crossed him off the list. He knew that the Italian officer
is, more or less, a lady's man; and the supreme confidence he has in the
power of brass buttons and gold lace makes him at times insufferable.

It was after ten when Hillard and his friend took their leave. They
would not see their host and hostess again till they reached New York.
Upon coming out on the Corso, Hillard whistled merrily.

"Pleasant evening," was Merrihew's comment.

Hillard continued to whistle.

"Good dinner, too."

The whistle went on serenely, in spite of Merrihew's obvious attempts to
choke it off.

"You seemed to have a good deal to say to Mrs. Sandford. She knows the
lady who was in the house?"

Still the whistle.

"Say, wake up!" cried Merrihew impatiently.

"We shall leave in the morning for Venice," said Hillard, taking up the
tune again.

"Venice? How about Rome and Florence?"

"Which would you prefer: Rome and the antiquities, or Venice and--Kitty
Killigrew?"

"Kitty in Venice? Are you sure?"

"She is there with La Signorina Capricciosa. Oh, this is a fine world,
after all, and I was wrong to speak ill of it this morning."

"If Kitty's in Venice, I'm an ungrateful beggar, too. But I do not se