d, is it not?" inquired Marjory.

"But yes, certainly."

"Then truly it is a mistake, because the two gentlemen went off
together in a cab."

The lieutenant took out a memorandum-book.

"Is that necessary?" asked Marjory anxiously.

"A report must be made."

"It was nothing, I assure you," she insisted. "It was what in America
is called a false alarm."

"You are American?" inquired the lieutenant, twisting his mustache.

"It is a compliment to my French that you did not know," smiled Marjory.

It was also a compliment to the lieutenant that she smiled. At least,
it was so that he interpreted it.

"The report is only a matter of routine," he informed her. "If
mademoiselle will kindly give me her name."

"But the newspapers!" she exclaimed. "They make so much of so little."

"It will be a pleasure to see that the report is treated as
confidential," said the lieutenant, with a bow.

So, as a matter of fact, after a perfunctory interview with madame and
Marie, who had so far recovered themselves as to be easily handled by
Marjory, the lieutenant and his men bowed themselves out and the
incident was closed.

Marjory escorted them to the door, and then, a little breathless with
excitement, went into the reception room a moment to collect herself.

The scene was set exactly as it had been when from upstairs she heard
that shot--the shot that for a second had checked her breathing as if
she herself had been hit. As clearly as if she had been in the room,
she had seen Monte stretched out on the floor, with Hamilton bending
over him. She had not thought of any other possibility. As she sprang
down the stairs she had been sure of what she was about to see. But
when she entered she had found Monte standing erect--erect and smiling,
with his light hair all awry like a schoolboy's.

Then, sinking into the chair near the window,--this very chair beside
which she now stood,--he had asked her to go out and attend to madame.

Come to think of it, it was odd that he had been smiling. It was not
quite natural for one to smile over as serious a matter as that. After
all, even if Teddy was melodramatic, even if his shot had missed its
mark, it was not a matter to take lightly.

She seated herself in the chair he had occupied, and her hands dropped
wearily to her side. Her fingers touched something sticky--something
on the side of the chair next to the wall--something that the gendarmes
had not noticed. She d