a sudden outbreak of audacity.

Lady Montbarry looked round for the third time. The fatal words passed
Mrs. Ferrari's lips.

'I come, my lady, to acknowledge the receipt of the money sent to
Ferrari's widow.'

Lady Montbarry's glittering black eyes rested with steady attention on
the woman who had addressed her in those terms. Not the faintest
expression of confusion or alarm, not even a momentary flutter of
interest stirred the deadly stillness of her face. She reposed as
quietly, she held the screen as composedly, as ever. The test had been
tried, and had utterly failed.

There was another silence. Lady Montbarry considered with herself.
The smile that came slowly and went away suddenly--the smile at once so
sad and so cruel--showed itself on her thin lips. She lifted her
screen, and pointed with it to a seat at the farther end of the room.
'Be so good as to take that chair,' she said.

Helpless under her first bewildering sense of failure--not knowing what
to say or what to do next--Mrs. Ferrari mechanically obeyed. Lady
Montbarry, rising on the sofa for the first time, watched her with
undisguised scrutiny as she crossed the room--then sank back into a
reclining position once more. 'No,' she said to herself, 'the woman
walks steadily; she is not intoxicated--the only other possibility is
that she may be mad.'

She had spoken loud enough to be heard. Stung by the insult, Mrs.
Ferrari instantly answered her: 'I am no more drunk or mad than you
are!'

'No?' said Lady Montbarry. 'Then you are only insolent? The ignorant
English mind (I have observed) is apt to be insolent in the exercise of
unrestrained English liberty. This is very noticeable to us foreigners
among you people in the streets. Of course I can't be insolent to you,
in return. I hardly know what to say to you. My maid was imprudent in
admitting you so easily to my room. I suppose your respectable
appearance misled her. I wonder who you are? You mentioned the name
of a courier who left us very strangely. Was he married by any chance?
Are you his wife? And do you know where he is?'

Mrs. Ferrari's indignation burst its way through all restraints. She
advanced to the sofa; she feared nothing, in the fervour and rage of
her reply.

'I am his widow--and you know it, you wicked woman! Ah! it was an evil
hour when Miss Lockwood recommended my husband to be his lordship's
courier--!'

Before she could add another word, Lady Montbarry sprang from the