eak spots, you
know. I think that you found mine. Good-bye, little girl!"

She would have called him back, but he had no idea of lending himself
to anything so inartistic. With head thrown back, he left the footpath
and climbed the hill round which they had been walking. Not once did
he look behind. Not once did he turn his head till he stood on the top
of the rock-strewn eminence, his figure clearly outlined against the
blue sky. Then he straightened himself and turned round, thinking all
the time how wonderfully effective his profile must seem in that deep,
soft light, if she should have the sense to look.

She did look. She was standing very nearly where he had left her. She
was waving her handkerchief, beckoning him to come down. He raised his
hand above his head as though in farewell, and turned slowly away. As
soon as he was quite sure that he was out of sight, he took his
cigarette case from his pocket and began to smoke!

CHAPTER X

THE SCENE CHANGES

Saton left the country on the following afternoon, arrived at St.
Pancras soon after five, and drove at once to a large, roomy house
on the north side of Regent's Park. He was admitted by a trim
parlormaid--Parkins had been left behind to superintend the removal
from Blackbird's Nest--and he found himself asking his first question
with a certain amount of temerity.

"Madame is in?" he inquired.

"Madame is in the drawing-room," the maid answered.

"Alone?" Saton asked.

"Quite alone, sir."

Saton ascended the stairs and entered the drawing-room, which was on
the first floor, unannounced. At the further end of the apartment a
woman was sitting, her hands folded in front of her, her eyes fixed
upon the wall. Saton advanced with outstretched hands.

"At last!" he exclaimed.

The woman made no reply. Her silence while he crossed a considerable
space of carpet, would have been embarrassing to a less accomplished
_poseur_. She was tall, dressed in a gown of plain black silk, and her
brown, withered face seemed one of those which defy alike time and
its reckoning. Her white hair was drawn back from her forehead, and
tied in a loose knot at the back of her head. Her mouth was cruel. Her
eyes were hard and brilliant. There was not an atom of softness, or of
human weakness of any sort, to be traced in any one of her features.
Around her neck she wore a scarf of brilliant red, the ends of which
were fastened with a great topaz.

Saton bent over her a