before
seven, and only left them to come on here. Accept my regrets, my friend,
for the trouble he occasioned you, and my thanks for your kindness to
him."

The words and the tone were courteous enough, and yet they roused in me
a sudden fierce feeling of antagonism against this man, whom I had
hitherto regarded as an interesting and pleasant acquaintance. For one
thing, I saw that Anne had been listening to the brief colloquy, and had
grasped the full significance of his remark as to the time when he
returned to his rooms. The small head, with its gleaming crown of
chestnut hair, was elevated with a proud little movement, palpable
enough to my jealous and troubled eyes. I could not see her face, but I
knew well that her eyes flashed stormy lightnings at that moment.
Wonderful hazel eyes they were, changing with every mood, now dark and
sombre as a starless night, now light and limpid as a Highland burn,
laughing in the sunshine.

She imagined that the excuse I had made was invalid; for if, as
Cassavetti inferred, his--and my--mysterious visitor had been off the
premises before seven o'clock, I ought still to have been able to keep
my appointment with her. Well, I would have to undeceive her later!

"Don't look so solemn, Maurice," Mary said, as I seated myself beside
her. "Tell me all about everything, right now."

I repeated what I had already told Cassavetti.

"Well, I call that real interesting!" she declared. "If you'd left that
poor old creature on the stairs, you'd never have forgiven yourself,
Maurice. It sounds like a piece out of a story, doesn't it, Jim?"

"You're right, my dear! A fairy story," chuckled Jim, facetiously. "You
think so, anyhow, eh, Anne?"

Thus directly appealed to, she had to turn to him, and I heard him
explaining his question, which she affected not to understand; heard
also her answer, given with icy sweetness, and without even a glance in
my direction.

"Oh, no, I am sure Mr. Wynn is not capable of inventing such an excuse."

Thereupon she resumed her conversation with Cassavetti. They were
speaking in French, and appeared to be getting on astonishingly well
together.

That dinner seemed interminable, though I dare say every other person in
the room except my unlucky self--and perhaps Mary, who is the most
sympathetic little soul in the world--enjoyed it immensely.

I told her of my forthcoming interview with Southbourne, and the
probability that I would have to leave Lond