f his own pains, and the memories of
a thousand triumphant operations will not hinder the start and outcry of
the greatest of surgeons if you stick an unexpected pin into any part of
his anatomy.

Paul had laid his hand upon the handle of the door of the study, and
with his disengaged hand was fumbling in his pocket for a match, when he
heard a tripping footstep on the stairs behind him, and he was hailed by
the Baroness's Parisian maid. Madame la Baronne, so the maid explained,
had let fall a valuable ornament in the salon; had Mr. Armstrong seen
it, and, if not, would he give orders that it should be sought for and
returned? Paul felt the precious object in his pocket.

'I do not know Madame's arrangements,' he said, 'but I have the
bracelet, and, if it were possible for her to receive me, I should like
to hand it to her personally.'

'Oh, but yes,' said the maid. Madame la Baronne had her little suite
of rooms, and was quite in position to receive. M. Armstrong's desire
should be named to her, and the maid would bring an answer.

She fluttered upstairs with swashing petticoats and a flutter of
ribbons, and Paul waited in the corridor below. On the waxed floor of
the salon Annette's feet still moved to a rhythmic, half-dancing walk,
and her bird-like voice soared to--

'Tons les deux, la main dans la main,
Nous poursuivions notre chemin,
Sous la celeste voute.'

'Under the celestial vault,' said Paul; 'and bent on the discovery of
what infernal regions?'

The maid came back, pruning herself with coquettish graces, to answer
that Madame la Baronne would have pleasure in receiving M. Armstrong
in five minutes, and, having delivered her message, rustled rapidly
upstairs again. She paused at the turning of the stair, and leaned over
to say:

'Numero quinze, the fifth door to the right of monsieur.'

'Thank you,' Paul answered, and, turning into the darkened study, struck
a light and consulted his watch. It was ten minutes past nine, and he
sat still to await the quarter hour. There was a clattering of pots and
pans in the distant kitchen, and Annette was still singing and walking
in the near apartment An occasional murmur of voices, a click of
billiard-balls, and even the faint noise made by the shuffle of a set of
dominoes in the cafe over the road reached his ears, but save for these
slight signs of life the world seemed asleep. Annette suddenly ceased
to sing in the middle of a bar. H