pened, and a
middle-aged man in evening dress, and wearing a black overcoat and crush
hat, emerged. His dark face was an aristocratic one, and as he descended
the steps he drew on his white gloves, for he was evidently on his way
to the theatre. I took good notice of his face, for it was a striking
countenance--one which once seen could never be forgotten.

A man-servant behind him blew a cab-whistle, a hansom came up, and he
drove away. Then I walked up and down in the vicinity, keeping a weary
vigil; for my curiosity was now much excited. The stranger meant
mischief. Of that I was certain.

The one point I wished to clear up was whether Julie Rosier was actually
within that house. But though I watched until I became half frozen in
the drizzling rain, all was in vain. So I took a cab and drove to
Clifford Street, to report my arrival to Count Bindo.

That same night, when I got to my rooms, I wrote a line to the address
Julie had given me, asking whether she would make an appointment to meet
me, as I wished to give her some very important information concerning
herself, and to this on the following day I received a reply asking me
to call at the house in Burton Crescent that evening at nine o'clock.

Naturally I went. My surmise was correct that the house watched by the
stranger was her abode. The fellow was keeping observation upon it with
some evil intent.

The man-servant, on admitting me, showed me into a well-furnished
drawing-room on the first floor, where sat my pretty travelling-companion
ready to receive me.

In French she greeted me very warmly, bade me be seated, and after some
preliminaries inquired the nature of the information which I wished to
impart to her.

Very briefly I told her of the shabby watcher, whereupon she sprang to
her feet with a cry of mingled terror and surprise.

"Describe him--quickly, M'sieur Ewart!" she urged in breathless
agitation.

I did so, and she sat back again in her chair, staring straight before
her.

"Ah!" she gasped, her countenance pale as death. "Then they mean
revenge, after all. Very well! Now that I am forewarned I shall know how
to act."

She rose, and pacing the room in agitation, pushed back the dark hair
from her brow. Then her hands clenched themselves, and her teeth were
set, for she was desperate.

The shabby man was an emissary of her enemies, she told me as much. Yet
in all she said was mystery. At one moment I was convinced that she had
told