r woman could find life in this dreary city such a joyous
thing.

A sharp walk through the Strand and across Trafalgar Square did a
good deal toward restoring the poise of her wits. For safety, she had
pinned the envelop containing her paper money and tickets inside her
blouse. The mere presence of the solid little parcel reminded her at
every movement that she was truly bound for the wonderful Engadine,
and, now that the notion was becoming familiar, she was the more
astonished that the choice of "The Firefly" had fallen on her. It was
all very well for Mr. Mackenzie to say that the paper would be
brightened by a woman's views on life in the high Alps. The poor worn
man looked as if such a holiday would have done him a world of good.
But the certain fact remained that there was no room for error. It was
she, Helen Wynton, and none other, for whom the gods had contrived
this miracle. If it had been possible, she would have crossed busy
Cockspur-st. with a hop, skip, and a jump in order to gain the
sleeping car company's premises.

She knew the place well. Many a time had she looked at the attractive
posters in the windows,--those gorgeous fly sheets that told of winter
in summer among the mountains of Switzerland and the Tyrol, and of
summer in winter along the sunlit shores of the Cote d'Azur. She
almost laughed aloud at the thought that possessed her as she waited
for a moment on the curb to allow a press of traffic to pass.

"If my luck holds till Christmas, I may be sent to Monte Carlo," she
said to herself. "And why not? It's the first step that counts, and
'The Firefly,' once fairly embarked on a career of wild extravagance,
may keep it up."

Under the pressure of that further inspiration she refused to wait any
longer, but dodged an omnibus, a motor car, and some hansoms, and
pushed open the swing doors of the Bureau de la Campagnie des
Wagons-Lits. She did not notice that the automobile stopped very
quickly a few yards higher up the street. The occupant, Mark Bower,
alighted, looked at her through the window to make sure he was not
mistaken, and followed her into the building. He addressed some
question to an attendant, and heard Helen say:

"Yes, please. Thursday will suit admirably. I am going straight
through to St. Moritz. I shall call on Wednesday and let you know what
day I wish to return."

If Bower had intended to speak to her, he seemed to change his mind
rather promptly. Helen's back was turned