soon discovered the woman who held him beneath her
spell, and I found myself dancing attendance upon the snub-nosed little
daughter of a Burgomaster, with whom I waltzed the greater part of the
evening.

On our return my "wife" told me with a laugh that matters were
progressing well. "Otto," she added, "is such a fool. Men in love will
believe any fiction a woman tells them. Isn't it really extraordinary?"

"Perhaps I'm one of those men, mademoiselle," I said, looking straight
into her beautiful eyes; for I own she had in a measure fascinated me,
even though I knew her to be an adventuress.

She burst out laughing in my face.

"Don't be absurd, M'sieur Ewart," she cried. "Fancy you! But you
certainly wouldn't fall in love with me. We are only friends--in the
same swim, as I believe you term it in English."

I was a fool. I admit it. But when one is thrown into the society of a
pretty woman even a chauffeur may make speeches he regrets.

So the subject dropped, and with a mock curtsey and a saucy wave of the
hand, she went to her room.

On the following day she went out alone at eleven, not returning until
six. She offered no explanation of where she had been, and of course it
was not for me to question her. As we sat at dinner in our private
_salle-a-manger_ an hour later she laughed at me across the table, and
declared that I was sitting as soberly as though I really were her
dutiful husband. And next day she was absent again the whole day, while
I amused myself in visiting the Law Courts, the picture galleries, and
the general sights of the little capital of which Messieurs the brave
Belgians are so proud. On her return she seemed thoughtful, even
_triste_. She had been on an excursion somewhere with Otto, but she did
not enlighten me regarding its details. I wondered that I had had no
word from Bindo. Yet he had told me to obey Valentine's instructions,
and I was now doing so. At dinner she once clenched her little hand
involuntarily, and drew a deep breath, showing me that she was indignant
at something.

The following morning, as she mentioned that she should be absent all
day, I took a run on the car as far as the quaint little town of Dinant,
up the Meuse, getting back to dinner.

In the salon she met me, already in her dinner-gown, and told me that
she had invited Otto to dine.

"To-night you must show your jealousy. You must leave us together here,
in the salon, after dinner, and then a quarter of