t is a long lane that has no turning, and at length the hansom drew
up before a little cottage far back from the road. A long porch of
lattice-work led up to the front door, and tall elm trees shaded the
little garden. It was a pleasant enough little abode on the outside at
any rate, sheltered from the noise and bustle of the great city.

"No. 17, The Grove, sir," called out the cabman, breathless, but
triumphant, "and it's only five minutes to six."

"Well done," said McAllister, "here's your well-earned sovereign. Now
take your horse to the stables over there and wait for me."

The cabman departed radiant, wondering over such unwonted generosity, and
musing as to the rank and wealth of his fare.

McAllister knocked at the door of the cottage, and presently it was
opened by a neat maid-servant, who, in answer to his inquiry, said:

"I am afraid, sir, Mademoiselle Laurentia will not be able to see you.
What name shall I say, please, sir?"

"Oh, say I'm a Canadian. I have no cards with me; but I have come on a
matter of the utmost importance, and I must see your mistress."

"Very well, sir; please walk up this way," and the maid led the way to
Mademoiselle Laurentia's boudoir.

It was a dainty little room furnished in blue and silver. On the walls
hung numerous water-colors and engravings, showing that the prima donna
had an artistic eye.

McAllister had not long to wait before the mistress of the house came in.
She was dressed for her part in "Aida," and wore an Egyptian robe of soft
white cashmere, embroidered in dull gold silk with a quaint conventional
pattern. Her gown was slightly open at the throat, round which was a
necklace of dull gold beads. Heavy bracelets of the same material
encircled her arms, and a row of them held back her dark brown hair,
which fell in heavy masses far below her knees.

She came into the room with her hands stretched out in welcome, but at
the sight of McAllister drew back looking surprised.

"How do you do, Mr. McAllister," she said, in a formal tone. "This is
indeed an unexpected pleasure. Pray pardon my theatrical dress, but I
have such a long drive into town that I am obliged to dress early."

"Certainly, Marie; your dress is very becoming; in fact, you look
altogether charming."

"Mr. McAllister, before you speak again, I think I may tell you that once
before I have had to remind you that only to my most intimate friends am
I known as Marie Gourdon."

"Am I not your