steps. She jumped up, and made a dash for the door, but I happened
to have locked it.

"Where is Madame Deschamps?" I asked.

"She returns to Paris to-morrow. Monsieur will let me go. I was only a
tool."

"I will consider that matter, Yvette," I said. "In my opinion you are
a thoroughly wicked girl, and I wouldn't trust you any further than I
could see you. For the present, you will have an opportunity to
meditate over your misdoings." I left the room, and locked the door on
the outside.

Impossible to disguise the fact that I was enormously pleased with
myself--with my sharpness, my smartness, my penetration, my success.

CHAPTER XIII

THE PORTRAIT

For the next hour or two I wandered about Rosa's flat like an
irresolute and bewildered spirit. I wished to act, yet without Rosa I
scarcely liked to do so. That some sort of a plot existed--whether
serious or trivial was no matter--there could be little doubt, and
there could be little doubt also that Carlotta Deschamps was at the
root of it.

Several half-formed schemes flitted through my head, but none of them
seemed to be sufficiently clever. I had the idea of going to see
Carlotta Deschamps in order to warn her. Then I thought the warning
might perhaps be sent through her sister Marie, who was doubtless in
Paris, and who would probably be able to control Carlotta. I had not
got Carlotta's address, but I might get it by going to the Casino de
Paris, and asking Marie for it. Perhaps Marie, suspicious, might
refuse the address. Had she not said that she and Carlotta were as
thick as thieves? Moreover, assuming that I could see Carlotta, what
should I say to her? How should I begin? Then it occurred to me that
the shortest way with such an affair was to go directly to the police,
as I had already threatened Yvette; but the appearance of the police
would mean publicity, scandal, and other things unpleasant for Rosa.
So it fell out that I maintained a discreet inactivity.

Towards nightfall I went into the street to breathe the fresh air. A
man was patrolling the pavement in a somewhat peculiar manner. I
returned indoors, and after half an hour reconnoitred once more. The
man was on the opposite side of the road, with his eyes on the windows
of the salon. When he caught sight of me he walked slowly away. He
might have been signalling to Yvette, who was still under lock and
key, but this possibility did not disturb me, as escape was out of the
question fo