he entered the main
thoroughfare.

He started back.

"Why!" he cried, "Miss Cumberly!"

Helen checked a frown, and hastily substituted a smile.

"How odd that I should meet you here, Mr. Gianapolis," she said.

"Most extraordinary! I was on my way to visit a friend in Victoria
Street upon a rather urgent matter. May I venture to hope that your path
lies in a similar direction?"

Helen Cumberly, deceived by his suave manner (for how was she to know
that the Greek had learnt her address from Crockett, the reporter?),
found herself at a loss for an excuse. Her remarkably pretty mouth was
drawn down to one corner, inducing a dimple of perplexity in her left
cheek. She had that breadth between the eyes which, whilst not an
attribute of perfect beauty, indicates an active mind, and is often
found in Scotch women; now, by the slight raising of her eyebrows, this
space was accentuated. But Helen's rapid thinking availed her not at
all.

"Had you proposed to walk?" inquired Gianapolis, bending deferentially
and taking his place beside her with a confidence which showed that her
opportunity for repelling his attentions was past.

"Yes," she said, hesitatingly; "but--I fear I am detaining you"...

Of two evils she was choosing the lesser; the idea of being confined in
a cab with this ever-smiling Greek was unthinkable.

"Oh, my dear Miss Cumberly!" cried Gianapolis, beaming radiantly, "it is
a greater pleasure than I can express to you, and then for two friends
who are proceeding in the same direction to walk apart would be quite
absurd, would it not?"

The term "friend" was not pleasing to Helen's ears; Mr. Gianapolis went
far too fast. But she recognized her helplessness, and accepted this
cavalier with as good a grace as possible.

He immediately began to talk of Olaf van Noord and his pictures,
whilst Helen hurried along as though her life depended upon her speed.
Sometimes, on the pretense of piloting her at crossings, Gianapolis
would take her arm; and this contact she found most disagreeable; but on
the whole his conduct was respectful to the point of servility.

A pretty woman who is not wholly obsessed by her personal charms, learns
more of the ways of mankind than it is vouchsafed to her plainer sister
ever to know; and in the crooked eyes of Gianapolis, Helen Cumberly read
a world of unuttered things, and drew her own conclusions. These several
conclusions dictated a single course; avoidance of Gianapoli