ou, to stay behind and entertain the hostess," Herman
said cordially.

"Madam Hofmann's conversation has been so entertaining that I quite
forgot the time," Millar said, looking at his watch. "By Jove! it is
late; I must go immediately."

"Won't you have some cognac before you go out? The night is cold,"
Herman urged.

"No, I thank you; I have an important engagement in the morning, and it
is now too late. Madam, I must bid you good-night. I have really spent a
very pleasant evening."

Millar started toward the door. Olga uttered a half-suppressed cry, and
he turned inquiringly.

"I left a letter lying here on the table; did you, perhaps, pick it up?"
she asked nervously.

She was almost weeping and spoke in a half-hysterical tone. Millar,
without changing countenance, drew the letter from his pocket.

"Perhaps this is it," he said, holding it up. "If it is of interest to
your husband----"

He made a movement as if to hand it to Herman. Fear clutched at Olga's
heart and she cried quickly:

"No, no, it was not that; it was nothing."

She forced herself to laugh. Millar bowed with impressive politeness and
left the room. Herman bowed the strange guest out, and then noticed for
the first time Olga's weariness and distress.

"You look tired, dear," he said tenderly. "It has been a long evening."

"Yes, I am tired," she said sadly.

Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright. As she stood leaning
against the table Herman thought her prettier than he had ever seen her
before. He went up to her, took her hands in his and kissed her.

"You seem excited, too," he said. "It makes you prettier, and I like it,
my dear, sweet, darling wife."

Olga shrank from his caress so obviously that Herman was hurt. She
withdrew her hands.

"Please don't," she said. "I am awfully nervous."

"Your cheeks are burning, dear," he said, touching them.

"Don't, Herman; I wish to be alone for a few minutes; to rest all
alone. Please leave me here."

"Very well, it shall be as you wish," Herman replied, adding as he left
the room:

"But it would be better if you went to sleep."

A servant entered, and Olga signed to him to extinguish the lights. In a
few moments she was alone, in semi-darkness, the room being partially
lighted by the reflected light from the garden lamps. As she sat there,
the tall, sinister figure of Millar, in his fur overcoat and his top
hat, passed the window.

"It would be better if I went to sleep,"