ring with all that can make a bar attractive,
served by a score or more of the prettiest of bar-maids; along the sides
of the room are rows of little tables in carved oak and cherry, each
unlike the other, each a work of art; in the corners and upon the walls
is a collection of paintings and statuary hardly rivalled in any of the
private mansions of Boston. The centre of the room, save for a fountain
playing in a jungle of flowering vines, violets, and rare orchids, is a
polished expanse of inlaid floor, where one may walk and smoke.

As Geoffrey walked in he passed the news-stand by the door. Here are
shown the photographs of the favorites or celebrities of the day,
etchings of the latest pictures, play-bills of the theatres and operas,
pictures of women and horses. Everywhere about that day he was met by
the semblance of the woman he had just seen; photographs in every size
and attitude, in every dress, colored, plain; taken in street dress, in
house dress, in dinner dress, in _robe de chambre_, full length and
half length, high-necked, low-necked, very low-necked; on the
handkerchief boxes and the perfumery cases were still gaudier pictures,
with the Carey collar, the Carey perfume, the King's favorite cigarette,
and whatever else had any use or service for a pretty woman. Geoffrey
noticed all these things as he passed on, but was struck a moment later
by the appearance of a man he thought he knew.

The man wore the dress of a gentleman, but travel-stained and untidy; he
was sitting alone at one of the little tables, with head bowed down upon
his breast; before him stood glasses and a crystal decanter half filled
with brandy. Geoffrey started with surprise, and would have turned back,
but the man saw him and recognized him. It was Oswald Carey.

The two men looked at each other a minute without speaking. Finally
Carey spoke, in a hoarse voice, not his own of older days:

"Have you seen my wife?"

Geoffrey started, less at the question than at the manner in which it
was asked.

"Yes," he said.

"Where is she? At the palace--at the court?"

"Yes."

"Damn her," said Carey.

Geoffrey was silent.

"Where did you see her last?" muttered the other.

"Here--in this hotel."

"In this hotel?"

"This morning."

"Is she--is she not with the King?"

"I believe--I do not know," answered Geoffrey. He turned to go. As he
looked at the other, standing there, white-faced, worn, with the glitter
in his reddened ey