ret of the whole tragedy. Should he risk
everything and break the seal, or should he risk perhaps as much
and tell the whole truth to Mademoiselle Idiale? It was a strange
dilemma for a man to find himself in.

Then, as he sat there, the business of the day commenced. A pile
of letters was brought in, the telephones in the outer office began
to ring. He thrust the sealed envelope into the breast-pocket of
his coat and buttoned it up. There, for the present, it must remain.
He owed it to himself to devote every energy he possessed to make
the most of this great tide of business. With set face he closed
the doors upon the unreal world, and took hold of the levers which
were to guide his passage through the one in which he was an actual
figure.

Her visit was not altogether unexpected, and yet, when they told him
that Mademoiselle Idiale was outside, he hesitated.

"It is the lady who was here the other day," his head clerk reminded
him. "We made a remarkably good choice of stocks for her. They
must be showing nearly sixteen hundred pounds profit. Perhaps she
wants to realize."

"In any case, you had better show her in," said Laverick.

She came, bringing with her, notwithstanding her black clothes and
heavy veil, the atmosphere of a strange world into his somewhat
severely furnished office. Her skirts swept his carpet with a
musical swirl. She carried with her a faint, indefinable perfume
of violets,--a perfume altogether peculiar, dedicated to her by a
famous chemist in the Rue Royale, and supplied to no other person
upon earth. Who else was there, indeed, who could have walked those
few yards as she walked?

He rose to his feet and pointed to a chair.

"You have come to ask about your shares?" he asked politely. "So
far, we have nothing but good news for you."

She recognized that he spoke to her in the presence of his clerk,
and she waved her hand.

"Women who will come themselves to look after their poor investments
are a nuisance, I suppose," she said. "But indeed I will not keep
you long. A few minutes are all that I shall ask of you. I am
beginning to find city affairs so interesting."

They were alone by now and Louise raised her veil, raised it so
high that he could see her eyes. She leaned back in her chair,
supporting her chin with the long, exquisite fingers of her right
hand. She looked at him thoughtfully.

"You have examined the pocket-book?" she asked.

"I have."

"And