away the usual throng of strollers in the Champs Elysees. Even the cafe
was deserted except for a small group in a far corner of the room, which
Mr. Calvert scarce noticed as he passed in. A cheerful fire was burning
in an open grate, near which were set a screen and a settle. Mr. Calvert
ensconced himself comfortably in this cosy corner and, calling for a
glass of wine, fell to reading the day's copy of the _Moniteur_ lying on
the table beside him. But his thoughts were other-where than with the
account of the Assembly's proceedings. Although he was in Paris and near
the woman he loved, he was as greatly in the dark as ever as to what
course to pursue to protect her. He knew not in what direction to turn,
seeing that he knew not what danger threatened. After he had seen St.
Aulaire, pressing affairs had detained him in London three days before
he could set out for Paris. He knew not whether that worthy had arrived
there before him or not--whether he intended to return to Paris at all
or to work through some secret agency. A thousand vague plans for
discovering these things floated through his mind and were rejected one
after the other. All were alike in one respect--she must not know, if
possible, that he was rendering her any service. Though he realized that
this danger hanging over her endeared her to him a thousand times more
than ever, though the chivalry of his nature impelled him to serve her,
he knew she did not love him, nor ever could, and all the pride and
hardness of youth made him resolve to guard his secret more jealously
than ever. He had humbled himself once before her and she had treated
him lightly, indifferently, contemptuously, and he had no mind to suffer
a second humiliation.

Upon one thing he was resolved--that he would see d'Azay in the morning
and discover if he knew of any peril that threatened. As this thought
passed through his mind he suddenly heard d'Azay's name distinctly
pronounced from the other side of the room. He laid the copy of the
_Moniteur_, which he had been turning in his hands, quietly down upon
the table and listened. The voices from the corner, which had been low
and confused on his entrance, were now louder and bolder. Either the
speakers did not know that they were not alone or else the wine had made
them careless.

"'Tis a pleasure I have long had in contemplation and which has become
peculiarly dear to me of late," and the speaker laughed mockingly. "I
shall denounce