e rattle of glasses, the hum of voices and laughter. Madame
frowned slightly as she marked the young Englishman's alertness. She was
used to victims, and his imperturbability annoyed her.

"I trust," she said, "that you will remember, Monsieur, that I am
breaking a pledged word. If Monsieur the Director here knew that I was
telling you of Mademoiselle Poynton there would be much trouble for all
of us."

Duncombe nodded.

"Go on," he said.

"Mademoiselle came here first about a month or perhaps six weeks ago,"
she said. "From that time on she was a regular visitor. She came alone.
She spoke to no one. She was always a mystery. She was very handsomely
dressed--for an English girl, quite chic! She spent money, and Monsieur
Albert the director kept always a table for her. As time went on we
began to feel the mystery. We asked ourselves for what purpose does she
come here? For what, indeed!

"One night Monsieur Albert, who was always besieged with questions about
her, took too much wine. I have seen that happen with him but
once--since that time never. He told us about Mademoiselle. She made
some inquiries about her brother, and Monsieur Albert was able to tell
her his whereabouts. After that he scarcely expected to see her again,
but the next night she was here also.

"Then Monsieur Albert learned more. Mademoiselle was in a small way an
artist, and she had conceived the idea of painting a picture of the
cafe--an early morning picture of effects, Monsieur understands. There
was to be the morning sunlight streaming across the supper-tables, the
faces of all of us aged and haggard. Monsieur Louis here, without doubt,
a very child of the devil! Oh, a very moral picture, Monsieur. It was to
convert us all. Monsieur Albert declared that he would arrange to have
it here on exhibition, and we should all mend our ways. Monsieur knew
perhaps that the young lady was an artist?"

The question was flashed suddenly upon him as though the intention was
to take him by surprise. Duncombe, however, remained unmoved.

"I am here, Madame, to ask, not to answer, questions," he said. "Will
you kindly proceed? I am greatly interested."

Madame put her hand to her throat for a moment as though to loosen her
necklace. She had not the appearance of being greatly in love with her
questioner.

"There came a night," she continued, "when Mademoiselle broke through
her rule. A man came in and sat at her table. His name was the Vicomte
D'Aub