an hour later return
suddenly. I will compromise him. Then you will quarrel violently, order
him to leave the hotel, and thus part bad friends."

I hardly liked to be a party to such a trick, yet the whole plot
interested me. I could not see to what material end all this tended.

Well, the gay Captain duly arrived, and we dined together merrily. His
eyes were fixed admiringly upon Valentine the whole time, and his
conversation was mainly reminiscent of the days at Vichy. The meal over,
we passed into the salon, and there I left them. But on re-entering
shortly afterwards I found him standing behind the couch, bending over
and kissing her. She had her arms clasped around his neck so tightly
that he could not disengage himself.

In pretended fury I dashed across to the pair with my fists clenched
in jealous anger. What I said I scarce remember. All I know is that
I let forth a torrent of reproaches and condemnations, and ended by
practically kicking the fellow out of the room, while my "wife" sank
upon her knees and implored my forgiveness, which I flatly refused.

The Captain took his kicking in silence, but in his glance was murder,
as he turned once and faced me ere he left the room.

"Well, Valentine," I asked, when he was safely out of hearing, and when
she had raised herself from her knees laughing. "And what now?"

"The whole affair is now plain sailing. To-morrow you will take the car
to Liege, and there await me outside the Cathedral at midnight on the
following night. You will easily find the place. Wait until two o'clock,
and if I am not there go on to Cologne, and put up at the Hotel du
Nord."

"Without baggage?"

"Without baggage. Don't trouble about anything. Simply go there and
wait."

At midday on the following day the pretty Valentine dressed herself
carefully, and went out. Then, an hour later, pretending that I was only
going for a short run, I mounted into the car and set out for Liege,
wondering what was now to happen.

Next day I idled away, and at a quarter to twelve that night, after a
run around the town, I pulled up in the shadow before the Cathedral and
stopped the engines. The old square was quite quiet, for the good
Liegois retire early, and the only sound was the musical carillon of the
bells.

In impatience I waited. The silent night was clear, bright, and frosty,
with a myriad shining stars above. Time after time the great clock above
me chimed the quarters, until just before