an yonder
desires his bill."

"Don't give it to him," I whispered, trying hard to think of the French
words. "Don't give it to him yet. Keep him where he is for a time."

I backed the demand with another gold piece, the last in my pocket. The
waiter seemed surprised.

"Not give the bill?" he repeated.

"No, not yet." I did my best to look wicked and knowing--"He and I wish
to meet the same young lady and I prefer to be first."

That was sufficient--in Paris. The waiter bowed low.

"Rest in peace, Monsieur," he said. "The gentleman shall wait."

I waited also, for what seemed a long time. Then the bearded one
reappeared. He looked surprised but pleased.

"Bon, Monsieur," he whispered, patting my arm. "She will see you. You
are to wait at the private door. I will conduct you there. It is most
unusual. Monsieur is a most fortunate gentleman."

At the door, at the foot of a narrow staircase--decidedly lacking in the
white and gold of the other, the public one--I waited, for another age.
The staircase was lighted by one sickly gas jet and the street outside
was dark and dirty. I waited on the narrow sidewalk, listening to the
roar of nocturnal Montmartre around the corner, to the beating of my own
heart, and for her footstep on the stairs.

At last I heard it. The door opened and she came out. She wore a cloak
over her street costume and her hat was one that she had bought in
London with my money. She wore a veil and I could not see her face.

I seized her hands with both of mine.

"Frances!" I cried, chokingly. "Oh, Frances!"

She withdrew her hands. When she spoke her tone was quiet but very firm.

"Why did you come here?" she asked.

"Why did I come? Why--"

"Yes. Why did you come? Was it to find me? Did you know I was here?"

"I did not know. I had heard--"

"Did Doctor Bayliss tell you?"

I hesitated. So she HAD seen Bayliss and spoken with him.

"No," I answered, after a moment, "he did not tell me, exactly. But I
had heard that someone who resembled you was singing here in Paris."

"And you followed me. In spite of my letter begging you, for my sake,
not to try to find me. Did you get that letter?"

"Yes, I got it."

"Then why did you do it? Oh, WHY did you?"

For the first time there was a break in her voice. We were standing
before the door. The street, it was little more than an alley, was
almost deserted, but I felt it was not the place for explanations. I
wanted to get her away from