ning into the sitting-room came to Hermione's
relief.

"Yes?" she said.

"If you can spare Marcelle, I would recommend that she should go to
your flat for any clothes you may need," said Curtis's voice.

Hermione threw open the door.

"A little while ago you told me that it was impossible to think of
returning there," she said.

"For you, yes, but not for your maid. Who is to hinder? That man,
Rafferty, looked a decent sort of fellow."

"I can manage Rafferty all right," put in Marcelle.

"Of course you can," smiled Curtis. "Just pack a trunk or a couple of
bags with Lady Hermione's belongings--you know what to bring--and get
Rafferty to call a taxi without attracting too much notice. If you
think you are being followed, put your pursuers off the scent. But my
own view is that 1000 59th Street is the last place anyone will think
of watching to-night."

"Shall I go at once, your ladyship?" said Marcelle, and Hermione said
"Yes," with a meekness that was admirable in a wife.

Curtis looked at his pretty bride's hat.

"I have ordered a meal," he said. "It will be served in a few minutes."

"I shall be ready," she replied, beginning nervously to take off her
gloves. The wedding ring was inclined to accompany the left hand
glove, but, after a second's hesitation, she replaced it. When she
appeared in the sitting-room she had discarded her jacket, a
close-fitting one of a style that fastened _a la militaire_, high in
the neck. Beneath it she had been wearing a white silk blouse, and the
delicate pink of her arms and throat was revealed now through its
diaphanous sheen. A string of pearls supported a diamond cross on her
breast, and on her left wrist was a watch set in small diamonds and
turquoises and carried by a bracelet of gold filigree. She wore only
one ring--_the_ ring--and even the slight glance which Curtis gave it
brought a vivid blush to her cheeks.

"I am not a past master in the art of ordering banquets," he said
cheerily, turning at once to draw her attention to the table, "but the
head-waiter here is a gourmet. He suggested caviare, a white soup, a
king-fish, a tourne-dos, and a grouse--does that appeal?"

"You take my breath away," she said, with valorous effort to seem at
ease.

"Now--as to wine?"

"I seldom touch wine."

"To-night it will make you sleep. What do you say to a glass of Clos
Vosgeot?"

"Is that a claret?"

"Yes."

"Well, as it happens, that is the one wine