kirts of topics which had once been dangerous,
but were dangerous no longer, but the glamour was gone, and young Mr.
Janes had done as much to banish it in a single fortnight as Ralston
and the bibulous explorer and the nine months of diligent labour all put
together.

It happened that the Baroness herself planned a little pleasure trip,
which resulted in the closing of this chapter of Paul Armstrong's life.
It placed him incidentally in a position of extreme awkwardness, and
he was never able to decide whether he had acted well or ill in it. The
point may be reckoned a fine one.

Gertrude had made accidental acquaintance with a charming old house in
the neighbourhood of Fontainebleau, a country chateau of the old-world
sort, which was for sale, with all its furniture, its plate and its
pictures, and a rather exceptionally good library. Failing a sale,
it was provisionally for hire, and she, having, always, practically
unlimited funds at her disposal, was inclined to take it and to spend
some half-year in retirement, within easy reach of the capital and her
friends, whilst she added the last touches to a volume of poems on which
she had been engaged from time to time for some three or four years past
She was in negotiation for the place, and just by way of experiment
she had thought it a charming idea to give a little--a very
little--house-party there. There were to be only five people--Gertrude's
own Knickerbocker sheepdog, then one Comtesse de Cassault, Gertrude
herself, and Mr. Janes and Paul. The servants of the departed family
were available for a day; a chef and one or two kitchen assistants might
be sent down from Paris. The party would assemble in time for luncheon,
would spend the afternoon in a country excursion, would return to
dinner, and so Pariswards by a special train. It was a pretty programme,
and would cost M. le Baron de Wyeth a pretty penny, but the last
consideration was Gertrude's affair alone. The Comtesse de Cassault was
a beautiful person, a flirt of the demurest kind. The Knickerbocker was
virtually nobody. In effect it was a _partie carree_ and bade fair to be
enjoyable.

It was the very loveliest of October days, and Paul began his adventures
by a little accident to the voiture which should have borne him to the
station. It was no very great matter, but he found himself entangled
with the horses of an omnibus, and though he escaped personal injury,
apart from an inconsiderable bruise or tw