marry him. And if I do
what I've never done before for any man--become his mistress--who need
know? I could stay in the background."

"You seem to forget, dear lady," said I, "that Captain Vauvenarde is
probably alive."

"But I tell you I've lost sight of him altogether."

"Are you quite so sure," I asked, regaining my sanity by degrees, "that
Captain Vauvenarde has lost sight of you?"

She turned quickly. "What do you mean?"

"You have given him no chance as yet of recovering his freedom."

She passed her hand over her face, and sat down on the sofa. "Do you
mean--divorce?"

"It's an ugly word, dear Madame Brandt," said I, as gently as I could,
"but you and I are strong people and needn't fear uttering it. Don't
you think such a scandal would ruin Dale at the very beginning of his
career?"

There was a short silence. I was glad to see she was feminine enough to
twist and tear her handkerchief.

"What am I to do?" she asked at last. "I can't live this awful lonely
life much longer. Sometimes I get the creeps."

I might have given her the sound advice to find healthy occupation
in training crocodiles to sit up and beg; but an idea which advanced
thinkers might classify as more suburban was beginning to take shape in
my mind.

"Has it occurred to you," I said, "that now you have assumed the
qualifications imposed by Captain Vauvenarde for bearing his name?"

"I don't understand."

"You no longer perform in public. He would have no possible grievance
against you."

"Are you suggesting that I should go back to my husband?" she gasped.

"I am," said I, feeling mighty diplomatic.

She looked straight in front of her, with parted lips, fingering her
handkerchief and evidently pondering the entirely new suggestion. I
thought it best to let her ponder. As a general rule, people will do
anything in the world rather than think; so, when one sees a human
being wrapped in thought, one ought to regard wilful disturbance of the
process as sacrilege. I lit a cigarette and wandered about the room.

Eventually I came to a standstill before the Venus of Milo. But while
I was admiring its calm, mysterious beauty, the development of a former
idea took the shape of an inspiration which made my heart sing. Fate had
put into my hands the chance of complete eumoiriety.

If I could effect a reconciliation between Lola Brandt and her husband,
Dale would be cured almost automatically of his infatuation, and
I should be the