w nothing of the place beyond that brief visit," I answered. "I
know nothing of Louis except as a _maitre d'hotel_ in my favorite
restaurant. I know nothing of the people who frequent the Cafe des
Deux Epingles except those I saw there that night. You," I added,
"were one of them. I can assure you that when I went with Louis to
that place I had not the slightest idea that I should meet the person
whom I did meet."

"What is your name?" she asked abruptly.

I handed her my card. She read it with a perplexed face. The man
opposite to her moved uneasily in his sleep. She crumpled the card up
in her hands and remained for a few moments apparently deep in
thought.

"You are an Englishman?" she asked, after a short pause.

"Decidedly!" I answered.

"I have not known many Englishmen," she said slowly. "I have lived in
the country, near Bordeaux, and in Paris, most of my days. It is very
certain, though, that I have never seen an Englishman like you. I was
looking into your eyes when that man came into the room. I saw you
rise to strike him."

She shuddered. I leaned across towards her.

"Listen," I said, "I do not wish you to think me worse than I am. You
sympathize with that man whom I struck down. You look upon me as a
sort of would-be assassin. You need not. I tell you, upon my honor,
that if ever a man in this world deserved death, he deserved it."

"From you?" she asked.

"From me!" I answered firmly. "It was not, perhaps, a personal matter,
but I have a brother,--listen, mademoiselle!" I continued. "He is a
cripple. He was thrown from his horse--he was master of hounds in
those days--and he has never been able to walk since. He was married
to a woman whom he loved, a poor girl whom he had made wealthy, and to
whom he had given a great position. She loved him, and she was
content, after his accident, to give her life to him. Then that man
came, the man whom you saw me punish. I tell you that this was no
chance affair," I went on. "He set himself deliberately to win her
heart. How far he succeeded I do not know. I can only tell you that
she left my brother's home with him. The man was his guest at the
time,--was his guest from the beginning of the affair."

The girl's eyes blazed. Even in that dim light I could see the dark
blue fire in them.

"You did well!" she said. "For that I have no more to say. One who
wrongs the helpless should be punished. But I do not understand
this," she added. "I do not understa