an--and perhaps better!"

"You must go! you must go!" said Netty. And yet she would have been
sorry if he had gone. The worst of reaching the high-water mark is
that the ebb must necessarily be dreary. In a flash of thought she
recollected Joseph Mangles' story. This was the sequel. Strange if
he had heard his own story through the door of communication between
Mangles' bedroom and the dining-room. For the other door, from the salon
to the bedroom, stood wide open.

"You think I have only seen you once," said Kosmaroff. "I have not. I
have seen you often. But the first time I saw you--at the races--was
enough. I loved you then. I shall love you all my life!"

"You must go--you must go!" whispered Netty, dragging at her hands.

"I won't unless you promise to come to the Saski Gardens now--for five
minutes. I only ask five minutes. It is quite safe. There are many
passing in and out of the large door. No one will notice you. The
streets are full. I made an excuse to come in. A man I know was coming
to these rooms with a parcel for you. I took the parcel. See, there is
the tradesman's box. I brought it. It will take me out safely. But I
won't go till you promise. Promise, mademoiselle!"

"Yes!" whispered Netty, hurriedly. "I will come!"

Firstly, she was frightened. The others might come at any moment.
Secondly--it is to be feared--she wanted to go. It was the high-water
mark. This man carried her there and swept her off her feet--this
working-man, in his rough clothes, whose ancestor had been a king.

"Go and get a cloak," he said. "I will meet you by the great fountain."

And Netty ran along the corridor to her room, her eyes alight, her heart
beating as it had never beaten before.

Kosmaroff watched her for a moment with that strange smile that
twisted his mouth to one side. Then he struck a match and turned to the
chandelier. The globe was still warm. He had turned out the gas when
Netty's hand was actually on the handle.

"It was a near thing," he said to himself in Russian, which language
he had learned before any other, so that he still thought in it. "And I
found the only way out of that hideous danger."

As he thus reflected he was putting together hastily the contents of
Joseph Mangles's writing-case, which were spread all over the table in
confusion. Then he hurried into the bedroom, closed one or two drawers
which he had left open, put the despatch-case where he had found it,
and, with a few deft to