l
those days of studying the stranger with respectful discretion, seeking
an opportunity to address him, the stranger, without deigning him a
look, had known perfectly well who he was and had been imputing motives
to his presence. The reference to the long arm of coincidence was
stinging. Because it was so he tried to muster his dignity.

"I've no intention of hurrying away," he began; "but--"

"If you like, I'll put it this way," the measured voice broke in,
courteously. "If you have time to wait a little longer I should be glad
if you'd do it."

"Would there be any point to that?"

"I think you might trust me not to make the request if there were not."
He added presently: "It's a wise policy to let sleeping dogs lie; but
when they've once been roused, they've got to be quieted."

"Quieted--how?"

"I can't tell you that as yet. I may have some vague idea concerning the
process; I've none at all as to the result."

Chip was not sure that the stranger said good night. He knew he lifted
his hat and moved away. He watched him as, with stately, unhastening
step, he walked down the promenade, the Inverness cape and soft felt hat
silhouetted in the moonlight.

For the next forty-eight hours Walker hung about the hotel like a
culprit. He would have sacrificed even a glimpse of Edith to feel free
to go away. He couldn't go away while the other man's plans remained
enigmatical; but he wished he hadn't come. He felt his position
undignified, grotesque, like that of a boy detected in some bit of silly
daring.

Two days later they met again on the terrace of the Kleine Schanze. It
was not an accidental meeting. The stranger had walked directly up to
Chip to say:

"The lady to whom we were referring the other night--"

But Chip was still on his guard. "Did I refer to a lady?"

"Perhaps not. But I did. And that lady is ill. You may be interested to
know it. She was ill when she arrived in Paris from London ten days
ago."

"Then she's here."

"She's here. That's why I'm taking your time in asking you to remain."

Chip forced the next question with some difficulty: "Does she--does she
want to--to see me?"

"She hasn't said so."

"Has she--said anything about me at all?"

"That, I think, I must leave you to learn later. But I should like you
to know at once that I'm not keeping you here without a motive."

The stately figure moved on, leaving Chip to guess blindly at the
possibilities in store.

More days pas