e
with Miss Cahere. Secondly, Julie P. Mangles amuses me consumedly. In
her presence I am dumb. My breath is taken away. I have nothing to say.
But afterwards, in the night, I wake up and laugh into my pillow. It
takes years off one's life," said Deulin, confidentially, to Cartoner,
as they sipped their tea when Mr. Joseph P. Mangles had departed.

As Deulin was staying under the same roof he had only to descend from
the second to the first floor, when the clock struck seven. By some
chance he was dressed in good time, and being an idle person, with a
Gallic love of street-life, he drew back his curtain, and stood at the
window waiting for the clock to strike.

"I shall perhaps see the heir to the baronetcy arrive," he said to
himself, "and we can make our entry together."

It happened that he did see Cartoner; for the square below the windows
was well lighted. He saw Cartoner turn out of the Cracow Faubourg into
the square, where innumerable droskies stand. He saw, moreover, a man
arrive at the corner immediately afterwards, as if he had been following
Cartoner, and, standing there, watch him pass into the side door of the
hotel.

Deulin reflected for a moment. Then he went into his bedroom, and took
his coat and hat and stick. He hurried down-stairs with them, and gave
them into the care of the porter at the side door, whose business it is
to take charge of the effects of the numerous diners in the restaurant.
When he entered the Mangles' drawing-room a few minutes later he found
the party assembled there. Netty was dressed in white, with some violets
at her waistband. She was listening to her aunt and Cartoner, who were
talking together, and Deulin found himself relegated to the society of
the hospitable Joseph at the other end of the room.

"You're looking at Cartoner as if he owed you money," said Mr. Mangles,
bluntly.

"I was looking at him with suspicion," admitted Deulin, "but not on that
account. No one owes me money. It is the other way round, and it is not
I who need to be anxious, but the other party, you understand. No, I was
looking at our friend because I thought he was lively. Did he strike you
as lively when he came in?"

"Not what I should call a vivacious man," said Mangles, looking dismally
across the room. "There was a sort of ripple on his serene calm as he
came in perhaps."

"Yes," said Deulin, in a low voice. "That is bad. There is usually
something wrong when Cartoner is lively. He is