"He was dressed in dark blue clothes with shiny boots. He
was----"

Brett's eager description was cut short by the appearance of a new
character. Through a narrow door leading into the bar came a handsome
dark-eyed woman, aged perhaps twenty-five, well dressed, shapely, and
carrying herself with the easy grace of a born Parisienne.

Her hair was jet black. Her large dark eyes were recessed beneath arched
and strongly pencilled eyebrows. Her skin had that peculiar tint of
porcelain-white so often seen in women of southern blood.

Yet there was nothing delicate in this lady's appearance or manner. A
rich colour suffused her cheeks, and her language was remarkably free
both in volume and style. She addressed a few observations to the waiter
in the common vernacular of Montmartre, the only translatable portion
being the question why he was standing about the floor like the ears of
a donkey when there was work to be done.

Her manner changed somewhat as she addressed herself to Brett and his
companion. There was sufficient of the landlady in her demeanour when
she said, "And what would messieurs be pleased to command?"

Now, if there was one type of femininity more than another which Brett
thoroughly understood it was the saucy, quick-witted, handsome
adventuress. He knew that the woman scrutinizing him so coolly came well
within this category.

He could not tell, of course, in what way she might be associated with
the gang whose proceedings contained the explanation of Talbot's fate,
but he instantly resolved to adopt a determined position with the lady
who half-petulantly, half-curiously, was awaiting his reply.

He came nearer to her.

"I am glad," he said, "that I have met you."

The woman looked him boldly in the eyes. "Was it for the happiness of
seeing me that monsieur has visited the house?"

"That might well serve as the reason, but the pleasure is all the
greater since it was unexpected."

"You are pleased to be facetious," she replied. "Will you not tell me
your business? I have affairs to occupy me."

"Assuredly. I have driven here as quickly as possible from No. 11, Rue
Barbette."

This attack, so direct and uncompromising, did not fail to have its
effect. A ready mask of suspicion fell across the woman's impudent
pretty face.

There was just a tinge of stage laughter in her tone when she cried:
"Really, how interesting! And where is the Rue Barbette, monsieur? In
what way am I concerned with--