le in his voice that he could not
control.

"What is it you wish me to promise?" she inquired suspiciously. "You
must tell me first."

"It is that you will not leave Paris without first informing me," he
answered. "I will not ask you to tell me where you are going, or ask
for an interview. All I desire is that you should let me know that you
are leaving the city."

She was silent for a moment.

"If you will give me your address, I will promise to write and let you
know," she said at last.

"I thank you," he answered. Then, refusing to allow him to accompany
her any farther, she held out her hand and bade him good-bye. Having
done so, she passed up the Broad Walk in the direction they had come,
and presently was lost to his view.

"Well, I am a fool if ever there was one," said Browne to himself when
he was alone. "If only I had kept a silent tongue in my head about
that visit to the Warwick Road, I should not be in the hole I am now.
I've scored one point, however; she has promised to let me know when
she leaves Paris. I will stay here until that time arrives, on the
chance of meeting her again, and then----. Well, what matters what
happens then? How sweet she is!"

The young man heaved a heavy sigh, and returned to his hotel by the Rue
de Rivoli.

From that moment, and for upwards of a week, he neither saw nor heard
anything further of her. Although he paraded the streets with untiring
energy, and even went so far as to pay periodical visits on foot to the
Rue Jacquarie, he was always disappointed. Then assistance came to
him, and from a totally unexpected quarter.

Upon returning to his hotel, after one of his interminable
peregrinations, he found upon the table in his sitting-room a note,
written on pale-pink paper and so highly scented that he became aware
of its presence there almost before he entered the room. Wondering
from whom it could have come, for the writing was quite unknown to him,
he opened it and scanned the contents. It was written in French, and,
to his surprise, proved to be from Madame Bernstein.

"My dear Monsieur Browne," it ran, "if you could spare a friend a few
moments of your valuable time, I should be so grateful if you could let
me see you. The matter upon which I desire to consult you, as my
letter would lead you to suppose, is an exceedingly important one.
Should you chance to be disengaged to-morrow (Thursday) afternoon, I
will remain in, in the hope of seeing