Alden, the Agency boy,
upstairs. I'll be pushing off."

He "pushed off."

Almost immediately afterwards, Zoe's maid entered. There was a gentleman
to see her. He would not give his card.

"Show him into the next room," said Zoe, full of excitement, "and if Mr.
Oppner comes back, tell him I am engaged."

She entered the cosy reception-room, feeling that she was about to be
admitted behind the scenes, and, woman-like, delightfully curious. A
moment later, her visitor arrived.

"I have kept my promise, Miss Oppner!"

She turned, to greet him--and a little, quick cry escaped her.

For this was not Detective-Inspector Pepys who stood, smiling, in the
doorway!

It was a man who was, or who seemed to be, taller than he; a slim man,
having but one thing in common with the detective: his black
morning-coat fitted him as perfectly as the dress-coat had fitted the
inspector. An irreproachably attired man is a greater rarity than most
people realise; and Zoe Oppner wondered why, even in that moment of
amazement, she noted this fact.

Her visitor was singularly handsome. She knew, instantly, that she had
never seen one so handsome before. He was of a puzzling type, wholly
unlike any European she had met, though no darker of complexion than
many Americans. With his waving black hair, extraordinarily perfect
features, and the light of conscious power in his large eyes, he awoke
something within her that was half memory--yet not wholly so.

She was vaguely afraid, but strongly attracted towards this mysterious
stranger.

"But," she said, staring the while as one fascinated, "you--are not
Inspector Pepys!"

"True!" he answered smilingly. "I am not Inspector Pepys; nor is there
any such person!"

The voice was different, yet somehow reminiscent. Only now, a faint,
indefinable accent had crept into it.

"What do you mean?"

Zoe, at the idea that she had been imposed upon, grew regally indignant.
She was a lovely woman, and accustomed to the homage which mankind pays
to beauty. Her naturally frank, laughter-loving nature made her a
charming companion; but she could be distant, scornful--could crush the
most presumptuous with a glance of her eyes.

Now she looked at her strange visitor with frigid dignity, and he merely
smiled amusedly, as one smiles at a pretty child.

"Be good enough to explain yourself. If you dared to impose upon Lady
Vignoles last night--if you are not really a detective--what are you?"

"That