eant so much to him. There was no hope any
more. If he were still free in Paris he would have one look at that
tomb, and then ... well, he had had his day.

Two days later the little old steamer debarked many passengers in the
harbour of Cherbourg, carelessly confiding them to a much littler and
much older steamer that transported them to the actual land. Among these
were a feebly exploding father, a weak but faithful mother, and the
swathed wrecks of the Demon and the flapper.

Then began a five-hour train-ride to the one-time capital of a famous
upstart. There was but little talk among the members of the party. Bean
kept grimly to himself because the only friendly member slept. He
studied her pale, drawn face. She had indeed managed well, but his own
downfall had thwarted her. He was a nobody. They were doubtless right in
wanting to keep him from her. Yet he would see that tomb, and at the
earliest possible moment.

At eleven that night they reached the capital. A dispiriting silence was
maintained to the doors of a hotel. The women drooped in chairs. Breede
acquainted the reception committee of a Paris hostelry with the party's
needs as to chambers.

Thereupon they discovered one of the party to be missing. No one had
seen him since entering. They were excited by this, all but the flapper.

"I don't blame him," averred the flapper ... "Tagging us! You let him
alone! I shall perfectly not worry if he doesn't come home all night. Do
you understand? And when he does come--"

"Not safe," snapped Breede. "King of Egypt, Napoleon ... not after money,
just principle of thing. Chap's nutty--talk'n' like that!"

"Good _night_!" snapped the flapper in her turn.

XV

He had walked quickly away while porters were collecting the bags. "Keep
on the main street," he thought, plunging ahead. He did not change this
plan until he discovered himself again at the door of that hotel he
meant to leave. It faced a circle, and he had traversed this. He fled
down a cross-street and again felt free.

For hours he walked the lighted avenues, or sat moodily on wayside
benches, and at length, on a rustic seat screened by shrubbery in a
little park, he dozed.

He awoke in the early light, stretched legs and arms luxuriously and
again walked. He saw it was five o'clock. He was thrilled now by the
morning beauty of the Corsican's city, all gray and green in the
flooding sun. And the streets had filled with a voluble traffic tha