front trod on a dog, which yelped violently for
three minutes; for a brief space speech was impossible, and then they
were on the gang-plank, and he bent above her once more.

"I want to ask you something; will you do it if I ask you?"

"What is it?"

"Will you promise me to do it?"

They were now squeezing past the ticket _kiosque_.

"But what is it?"

"It is this--"

A man behind stepped on Rosina's skirt and nearly pulled her over
backward; something ripped violently and she gave a low cry. The man
said, "_Mille pardons_," and Von Ibn looked ready to murder him.

"Are you undone?" he asked her solicitously.

"No, I'm only badly torn."

"Do you want a pin?"

"Yes; have you one?"

"_Malheureusement que non._"

"I think that I can hold it up," she said bravely.

"It is unpardonable--a such man!"

He turned to scowl again at the offender. They were now in the
Promenade.

"He couldn't see in the dark, I suppose," she murmured.

"But why was he come so near? If it was I who had torn from being too
near, that would be quite different."

"If you don't take care it will be exactly the same thing."

He laughed, and gave way three inches.

"You have not yet promise," he said then.

"Promised what?"

"To do what I ask."

"Tell me what it is; if I can do it I will."

He took her arm to cross towards the hotel.

"You can do it if you will," he said; "it is this--"

The Schweizerhof shone before them, great and white and sparkling; every
window was lighted, every table on the terrace was full. Rosina
quickened her steps.

"Oh, I'm so late," she cried, "and I have _such_ a toilette to make!"

Von Ibn had his hand upon her arm still.

"It is this," he said emphatically, "promise me that you will go to the
Victoria Hotel at Zurich; yes?"

* * * * *

Later in her own room, as Ottillie dressed her hair, she closed her eyes
and tried to reduce her thoughts to a rational basis. But she gave up in
despair.

"From the 'Souvenir' to the Victoria," she murmured; "oh, he is most
certainly a genius!" then she sighed a little. "I'm sorry that we shall
probably never meet again," she added sadly.

Chapter Five

Rosina fairly flung herself off of the train and into the arms of Molly,
and then and there they kissed one another with the warmth born of a
long interval apart.

"Well, my dear," began the Irish girl, when they found themselves five
minutes later bein