d of the horrible suspicion which had assailed her. On the
contrary, it seemed to grow in her till it was almost a conviction.
She tried to eat tranquilly. She praised the Zabaione. She sipped her
Chianti Rosso. But she tasted nothing, and when the musicians struck up
another melody she did not know what they were playing.

"Are you tired of it?"

Craven had spoken to her.

"Of what?" she asked, as if almost startled.

"That--Santa Lucia?"

"Oh--is it?"

He looked astonished.

"Oh--yes, I must say I am rather sick of it!" she said quickly.

She laid down her spoon.

"Don't you like the Zabaione?"

"Yes, it's delicious. But I have had enough. You ordered such a very
good dinner!"

She began to use her fan again. The noise of voices in the room was
becoming like the noise of voices in a nightmare. She was longing to
confirm or banish her suspicion by a long look at Beryl's companion.
She felt sure now that if she looked again at Arabian she would be
absolutely certain, even from a distance, whether he was or was not the
man who had brought about the robbery of her jewels at the Gard du Nord
ten years ago. Her mind was fully awake now, and she would be able to
see. But, knowing that, she did not dare to look towards Arabian. She
was miserable in her uncertainty, but she was afraid of having her
horrible suspicion confirmed. She was a coward at that moment, and she
knew it.

Craven finished his Zabaione and put down his spoon. They had not
ordered another course. The dinner was over. But they had not had their
coffee yet, and he asked for it.

"Are you going to smoke a Toscana?" she said, forcing herself to smile.

"Yes, I think I will. Do let me give you a cigarette."

He drew out his case and offered it to her. She took a cigarette, lit
it, and began to smoke. Their coffee was brought.

"Oh, it's too hot to drink!" she said, almost irritably.

"But we aren't in a hurry, are we?" he said, looking at her with
surprise.

"No, of course not."

Now she was gazing resolutely down at the tablecloth. She was afraid to
raise her eyes, was afraid of what they might see. Her whole mind now
was bent upon getting away from the restaurant as soon as possible. She
had decided to go without making sure whether Arabian was the man who
had robbed her or not. Even uncertainty would surely be better than
a certainty that might bring in its train necessities too terrible to
contemplate mentally.

As she was looking