roved by his telegram, yet evasive as he was, he
might have already left. Yet I hoped he still remained in the capital,
and if so he would, I anticipated, probably go to one of the music-halls
or variety theatres. Therefore I set out upon another round.

I strolled eagerly through the crowded promenade of the chief music-hall
of Brussels--the Pole Nord, the lounge wherein men and women were
promenading, laughing, and drinking, but I saw nothing of the man of whom
I was in search.

I knew that he had shaved off his beard and otherwise altered his
appearance. Therefore my attention upon those about me was compelled to
be most acute.

I surveyed both stalls and boxes, but amid that gay, well-dressed crowd I
could discover nobody the least resembling him.

From the Pole Nord I went to the Scala, where I watched part of an
amusing revue; but my search there was likewise in vain, as it was also
at Olympia, the Capucines, and the Folies Bergeres, which I visited in
turn. Then, at midnight, I turned my attention to the big cafes,
wandering from the Bourse along the Boulevard Auspach, entering each cafe
and glancing around, until at two o'clock in the morning I returned to
the Grand, utterly fagged out by my long vigil of over fifteen hours.

In my room I threw off my overcoat and flung myself upon the bed in utter
despair.

Until I met that man face to face I could not, I saw, learn the truth
concerning my love's friendship with him.

Mrs. Petre had made foul insinuations, and now that my suspicions had
been aroused that Phrida might actually be guilty of that terrible crime
at Harrington Gardens, the whole attitude of my well-beloved seemed to
prove that my suspicions were well grounded.

Indeed, her last unfinished sentence as she had rushed from the room
seemed conclusive proof of the guilty secret by which her mind was now
overburdened.

She had never dreamed that I held the slightest suspicion. It was only
when she knew that the woman Petre had met me and had talked with me that
she saw herself betrayed. Then, when I had spoken frankly, and told her
what the woman had said, she saw that to further conceal her friendship
with Digby was impossible.

Every word she had spoken, every evasive sentence, every protest that she
was compelled to remain silent, recurred to me as I lay there staring
blankly at the painted ceiling.

She had told me that she was unaware of the fugitive's whereabouts, and
yet not half an h