vow."

"My vow?"

"Your marriage vow."

"Oh, yes. I know. But you know, chum, before you promise to love one
woman for all time you should have seen them all."

"And that display ten minutes ago was all mockery?"

"No, no! Really, Peter, I'm awfully fond of the little woman. Really I
am. And you know Daudet says a man can love two women at the same time."

"And if so, how about his honor?" Peter was trying to repress his
emotion, but it would jerk out questions.

"Yes, I know. I've said that to myself over and over again. Why, look
here." Watts pulled a small revolver from his hip pocket. "This will
show you how close to the desperation point I have come. I've carried
that for two days, so that if worse comes to worse--well. Phut!--_Voila
tout_."

Peter rose, speaking in a voice ringing with scorn. "You would escape
your sin, to leave it with added disgrace for your wife and daughter to
bear! Put up your pistol, Watts D'Alloi. If I am to help you, I want to
help a man--not a skulker. What do you want me to do?"

"That's what I wish to know. What can I do?"

"You have offered her money?"

"Yes. I told her that--"

"Never mind details," interrupted Peter, "Was it enough to put further
offers out of the question?"

"Yes. She won't hear of money. She wants revenge."

"Give me her name and address."

"Celestine--" The rest was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Well?"
said Watts.

The door was opened, and a footman entered. "If you please, Mr. D'Alloi,
there's a Frenchwoman at the door who wants to see you. She won't give
me her name, but says you'll know who it is."

"Say I won't see her. That I'm busy."

"She told me to say that if you were engaged, she'd see Mrs. D'Alloi."

"My God!" said Watts, under his breath.

"Ask the woman to come in here," said Peter, quietly, but in a way which
made the man leave the room without waiting to see if Watts demurred.

A complete silence followed. Then came the rustle of skirts, and a woman
entered the room. Peter, who stood aside, motioned to the footman to go,
and closed the door himself, turning the key.

The woman came to the middle of the room. "So, Monsieur D'Alloi," she
said in French, speaking very low and distinctly, "you thought it best
not to order your groom to turn me out, as you did that last day in
Paris, when you supposed your flight to America left you free to do as
you pleased? But you did not escape me. Here I am."

Watts sat down in