ited straw.

After that I abstained from misdirecting my companion's activities.

And everybody addressed her as _madame_, and everybody smiled on us,
and sometimes I reflected miserably upon the wedding ring, and then
again smiled too and forgot, watching Jacqueline's eager face flushed
with delight as she looked at the pretty things in the store.

I had meditated taking her into Tiffany's to buy her a trinket of some
kind. A ring seemed forbidden, and I was weighing the choice between a
bracelet and a watch, my desire to acquire a whole counter of trinkets
rapidly getting the better of my judgment, when something happened
which put the idea completely out of my head.

It was while Jacqueline was examining the suitcases that my attention
was drawn to a tall, elderly man with a hard, drawn, and deeply lined
weather-beaten face, and wearing a massive fur overcoat, open in front,
who was standing in the division between the trunk department and that
adjoining it, immediately behind Jacqueline. He was looking at me with
an unmistakable glance of recognition.

I knew that I had seen him several times before, but, though his
features were familiar, I had forgotten his name.

In fact, I had seen him only a week before, but the events of the past
night had made a week seem like a week of years. I stared at him and
he stared back at me, and made an urgent sign to me.

Keeping an eye on Jacqueline, and not losing sight of her at any time,
I followed the tall man. As I neared him my remembrance of him grew
stronger. I knew that powerful, slouching gait, that heavy tread.
When he turned round I had his name on my lips.

It was Simon Leroux.

"So you've got her!" he began in a hoarse, forcible whisper. "Where
did you pick her up? I was hurrying away from Tom's office when I
happened to see you two entering Mischenbusch's."

I remembered then that the office in which I had drudged was only a
couple of blocks away. I made no answer, but waited for him to lead
again--and I was thinking hard.

"There's the devil to pay!" he went on in his execrable accent. "Louis
came on posthaste, as you know, and he hasn't turned up this morning
yet. Ah, I always knew Tom was close, but I never dreamed _you_ knew
anything. When I used to see sitting near the door in his office
writing in those _sacre_ books I thought you were just a clerk. And
you were in the know all the time, you were! You know what happened
last night?" h