iness. You have
earned it." He glanced at his watch. "Madame, you are fatigued. You need
rest--sleep. I insist that you permit me to send you to my house, where
Madame Lefevre will have the honor to receive you, and make you
comfortable. You, Duvall, can in the meantime make your arrangements for
leaving Paris to-night, and also secure your baggage from the _pension_
in the _Rue Lubeck_ where it awaits you. I myself will accompany you,
and render you any assistance in my power; we will then rejoin your wife
at my house, where Monsieur de Grissac will meet us in time for dinner.
What do you say?"

Grace clung to her husband's arm. "I'm afraid to leave him, even for a
minute," she said.

Duvall pressed her hand, and noted her swollen eyes, her white and drawn
cheeks. "You have had a terrible night, dear," he said, kissing her,
"and you must have a few hours' rest. Go to Monsieur Lefevre's house,
and lie down and sleep for a little while. You are so nervous you can
scarcely stand. I will not be long."

She gave his arm a little squeeze, then turned to the Prefect. "I thank
you, monsieur, and since my husband thinks it best, I will gladly go to
your house at once. Good-by, Richard." She accompanied Monsieur Lefevre
to the door.

Two hours later, Duvall, having made all arrangements for leaving Paris
for London that night, descended from the Prefect's automobile at the
latter's house in the _Rue de Courcelles_. Within an hour they had been
joined by Monsieur de Grissac and were all seated about Monsieur
Lefevre's hospitable board. Everyone was in jubilant spirits, and in the
happiness of the moment all the suffering of the past week was
forgotten. De Grissac presented to the bride a magnificent diamond
crescent, and to Duvall a gold cigarette-case of exquisite design and
workmanship, while Monsieur Lefevre, not to be outdone, placed in
Grace's hand a rare lace shawl which, he assured her, had been worn by a
Marquise under the Empire. To Duvall he gave a seal ring, with the arms
of France engraved upon a setting of jade. "It belonged to my father,"
he said, simply. "With me it is a talisman; you will never ask any favor
from me in vain."

When M. Lefevre came at last to say good-by to Duvall and his wife,
there were tears of real sorrow in his eyes. He had no children of his
own, and the happiness of his two young friends had been his happiness
as well. The thought that he might never see them again left him with a
gre