ions.

"M. Valgrand is not here yet. What, didn't you know? Why, at the end of
the performance the Minister of Public Instruction sent for him to
congratulate him! That's a tremendous honour, and it's the second time
it has been paid to M. Valgrand."

Meanwhile the other two ladies in the party were roaming about the
dressing-room: Mme. Simone Holbord, wife of a colonel of the Marines who
had just covered himself with distinction in the Congo, and the Comtesse
Marcelline de Baral.

"How thrilling an actor's dressing-room is!" exclaimed Mme. Holbord,
inspecting everything in the room through her glass. "Just look at these
darling little brushes! I suppose he uses those in making up? And, oh,
my dear! There are actually three kinds of rouge!"

The Comtesse de Baral was fascinated by the photographs adorning the
walls.

"'To the admirable Valgrand from a comrade,'" she read in awe-struck
tones. "Come and look, dear, it is signed by Sarah Bernhardt! And listen
to this one: 'At Buenos Ayres, at Melbourne, and New York, wherever I am
I hear the praises of my friend Valgrand!'"

"Something like a globe-trotter!" said Mme. Holbord. "I expect he
belongs to the Comedie Francaise."

Colonel Holbord interrupted, calling to his wife.

"Simone, come and listen to what our friend de Baral is telling me: it
is really very curious."

The young woman approached, and the Comte began again for her benefit.

"You have come back too recently from the Congo to be up to date with
all our Paris happenings, and so you will not have noticed this little
touch, but in the part that he created to-night Valgrand made himself up
exactly like Gurn, the man who murdered Lord Beltham!"

"Gurn?" said Mme. Holbord, to whom the name did not convey much. "Oh,
yes, I think I read about that: the murderer escaped, didn't he?"

"Well, they took a long time to find him," the Comte de Baral replied.
"As usual, the police were giving up all hope of finding him, when one
day, or rather one night, they did find him and arrested him; and where
do you suppose that was? Why, with Lady Beltham! Yes, really: in her own
house at Neuilly!"

"Impossible!" cried Simone Holbord. "Poor woman! What an awful shock for
her!"

"Lady Beltham is a brave, dignified, and truly charitable woman," said
the Comtesse de Baral. "She simply worshipped her husband. And yet, she
pleaded warmly for mercy for the murderer--though she did not succeed in
getting it."

"What a