did with great apparent hesitation and diffidence, and the
general appearance of a man guilty of almost his first wrong intent, but
yet with strong resolution to not let it get the better of him.

She did not remove the delicate lace veil from her face, and it blended
the pretty flush which the exercise had heightened with her naturally
clear complexion in a most artistic way, and toned the light in her
great gray eyes into a languid lustre, very thrilling to behold when one
knows there is a clean life behind such beauty, but as dangerous when
transformed into a winning mask covering the perdition in the heart of a
wicked woman, as the dazzling power of the Prophet of Khorassan.

Bristol was a very courtly sort of fellow, and received a glass of wine
from the neat hand with considerable grace, though inwardly wondering
what it all meant. Their wine-glasses touched, and the cheap nectar was
drunk in silence, Mrs. Winslow only indulging in those little motions
and changes of features that some women believe to be attractive and
fascinating, and which really are so to many susceptible people; and
though Bristol might ordinarily have succumbed to the charms of the
accomplished woman before him--and had he been the retired banker she
supposed him to be would probably have done so--as the sedate, elderly,
and capable detective, he only pretended to be smitten, and coyishly
acknowledged her loving glances with more than ordinary ardor.

Finally, the fair woman, after modestly biting her lips for a time,
began tapping the table with the handle of her fan, and looking Bristol
full in the face, suddenly said:

"Mr. Bristol, aren't you a little curious why I wanted to see you?"

"Any man who is a man," replied Bristol earnestly, "could not but have a
pardonable curiosity when so fair a woman as Mrs. Winslow claims his
attention!"

"There, there," said she laughing, and extending her hands across the
table as if in a burst of confidence, "let us wave formalities; let us
be friends."

Bristol took her proffered hands rather stiffly, but held them as long
as was necessary, as they were pretty hands, warm hands, and hands that
could grasp another's with a good show of honesty, too.

"There is no reason why we shouldn't," he said gallantly, as she poured
out another glass of wine.

"Only one," answered Mrs. Winslow archly. "The three Graces don't like
me, and they are bound we sha'n't meet. Now," she continued, again
tapping