or me to push
my way into the jealously guarded Thibet. Now was the very moment for
some such experiments as these.

I hailed a cab and drove back to the Savoy, from a distant and more or
less (to me) unknown region of London. Try as I might to keep my
thoughts from the one absorbing topic by dwelling upon the plans for the
future, the effort was useless. Karine's face was before me, and again
and again I heard her words, which might have meant so much or so
little, "Many things in my life--even my _friends_ sometimes--have
come to me too late."

As I entered the hotel, my eyes dazzled by the sudden brilliant light, I
could hardly for an instant believe that it was not an optical illusion
when I saw in the flesh the face which had been haunting me.

But it was indeed she; there was no doubting that. People were coming
into the Savoy for dinner, now so fashionable a way of passing the
deadly dull London Sunday evening, and in a moment I had guessed that
she and her party were of the number. I had even an impression of a
sentence begun by Lady Tressidy that afternoon, which would doubtless
have ended with the information that she and the others were dining at
my hotel in the evening, had she not been interrupted, and so forgotten,
as I had done.

There had been a dreary drizzle of rain outside, and I was conscious
that my long wanderings through muddy streets had rendered me
unpresentable. Still, my wish had been granted me. There stood Karine
Cunningham, in white from head to foot; a long soft evening cloak, with
shining silver threads straying over its snowy surface, hung loosely
about her, for she had fastened it at the throat, and I could see a
gleam of bare neck, hung with a rope of pearls, and the delicate folds
of chiffon belted in with jewels at her girlish waist.

Her head was turned aside and slightly bent, a light from above
streaming down on her uncovered hair, and transforming the copper into
gold.

Sir Walter and Lady Tressidy were close by--not six feet away--and all
were evidently waiting for someone--Carson Wildred, no doubt, I bitterly
told myself.

None of the party had as yet seen me. Sir Walter and his wife were
talking very earnestly together, and had perhaps moved a few steps from
the young girl that their words might not be overheard by her.

I knew that, if I were wise, I would at once take myself off without
announcing my presence, but a sudden impulse seized and overmastered me.
It wa