some
years previously. It now seemed to me rather fortunate that she should be
the person who had recognised M. Zola, since she would naturally be
discreet as soon as the situation should be made clear to her.

After I had explained the position, I ascertained that the only person
besides herself who knew anything so far were her husband and the lady
friend who had accompanied her on the previous day.

'I will telegraph to my wife at once,' said Mr. Spalding, 'and you may be
sure that the matter will go no further. We certainly had a hearty laugh
at breakfast this morning when we read in the "Telegraph" of Zola
bicycling over the Swiss frontier; but, of course, as from what you tell
me, the matter is serious, neither my wife nor myself will speak of it.'

'And her friend?' I exclaimed, 'she knows nothing of the necessity for
secrecy, and may perhaps gossip about it.'

'She is going to Hastings to-day.'

'Hastings!' said I, 'why M. Desmoulin, Zola's companion, does nothing but
talk of going to Hastings! I am glad I know this. Hastings is barred for
good, so far as Zola is concerned.'

'Well, I will arrange for my wife to see her friend this morning before
she starts,' Mr. Spalding rejoined, 'and in this way we may be sure that
her friend will say nothing.'

This excellent suggestion was acted upon immediately. Mr. Spalding
telegraphed full instructions to his wife, and later in the day I learnt
that everything had been satisfactorily arranged. But for this timely
action, following upon my lucky call at Messrs. Chatto and Windus's
establishment, it is virtually certain that the meeting in the Buckingham
Palace Road would have been talked about and the game of 'Where is Zola?'
brought to an abrupt conclusion. As it happened, both ladies, being duly
warned, preserved absolute secrecy.

After going to Bishopsgate Street to see Wareham, and executing several
minor commissions, I returned to the Grosvenor, where Zola and Desmoulin
were much amused when I told them of the outcome of the previous day's
fright.

'It was a remarkable coincidence certainly,' said M. Zola. 'At a low
calculation I daresay a thousand women passed me in the streets
yesterday; just one of them recognised me, and she, you say, was Mrs.
Spalding. Shortsighted as I am, not having seen her, too, since I was in
England, a few years ago, I had no notion she was the person who turned
as she passed along, and said, "There's Monsieur Zola."

'But the