king; now he put it into the baron's hand--not wholly without a
certain sense of gratification, however, in the excitement and delight
which the act called forth; for no man is utterly devoid of personal
vanity, personal pride in his achievements, and this man was no less
human than his kind.

He let the tumult of excitement and joy wear itself out; he suffered the
baron's embraces--even the two rapturous kisses the man planted upon
first one and then the other of his cheeks--he endured Mlle. Athalie's
exuberant hand-clapping and hand-shaking and the cyclonic and wholly
Gallic manner in which she deported herself when comparison with the
fragments which the baron had still retained proved beyond all question
that these were indeed the missing portions of the all-important
document; and not until these things were over did he so much as look at
Ailsa Lorne again.

She had taken no part in the general excitement, moved not one foot from
where she had been standing from the first. Even when Athalie danced
over and hugged her and showed the important fragments; even when she
reproved her with a wondering, "Ah, you strange Anglais--you stone-cold
Anglais! Is it possible that you can have blood in your veins and yet
take wondrous things like this so calmly?"--even then, she merely smiled
and remained standing just as she still was; her pallor not one whit
lessened, her reserve but the merest shadow less apparent than it had
been before.

Cleek chose that moment to walk over to her, to lift his eyes to hers,
and to stand looking at her questioningly. For now that he was close to
her he could see that she was trembling nervously; that her calmness was
merely an outward thing, and that under it nerves writhed and a
frightened heart was beating thick and fast.

Was even the fancied moment in Paradise to be denied him then? That such
a woman could not, all in a moment--could not by just one act of heroism
on his part--be won over and lured into complete forgetfulness of such a
past as his, he realized to the fullest extent. Always he had been
conscious of that; but even so ... Ah, well, the meanest may hope, the
lowest may at least look up; and even saints and angels were not above
saying, "Well done!" to a soul that had struggled, to a sinner that had
done his best.

"I managed it, you see, Miss Lorne," he said, in a slightly lowered
voice, while the baron busied himself in looking for his cheque-book and
Athalie bustled ab