door, of uncertain feet on the stairs.

Harz seized her hand.

"Quick!" he whispered; "behind this canvas!"

Christian was trembling violently. She drew her hood across her face.
The heavy breathing and ejaculations of the visitor were now plainly
audible.

"He's there! Quick! Hide!"

She shook her head.

With a thrill at his heart, Harz kissed her, then walked towards the
entrance. The curtain was pulled aside.

It was Herr Paul, holding a cigar in one hand, his hat in the other, and
breathing hard.

"Pardon!" he said huskily, "your stairs are steep, and dark! mais en,
fin! nous voila! I have ventured to come for a talk." His glance fell
on the cloaked figure in the shadow.

"Pardon! A thousand pardons! I had no idea! I beg you to forgive this
indiscretion! I may take it you resign pretensions then? You have a
lady here--I have nothing more to say; I only beg a million pardons for
intruding. A thousand times forgive me! Good-night!"

He bowed and turned to go. Christian stepped forward, and let the hood
fall from her head.

"It's I!"

Herr Paul pirouetted.

"Good God!" he stammered, dropping cigar and hat. "Good God!"

The lantern flared suddenly, revealing his crimson, shaking cheeks.

"You came here, at night! You, the daughter of my wife!" His eyes
wandered with a dull glare round the room.

"Take care!" cried Harz: "If you say a word against her---"

The two men stared at each other's eyes. And without warning, the
lantern flickered and went out. Christian drew the cloak round her
again. Herr Paul's voice broke the silence; he had recovered his
self-possession.

"Ah! ah!" he said: "Darkness! Tant mieux! The right thing for what we
have to say. Since we do not esteem each other, it is well not to see
too much."

"Just so," said Harz.

Christian had come close to them. Her pale face and great shining eyes
could just be seen through the gloom.

Herr Paul waved his arm; the gesture was impressive, annihilating.

"This is a matter, I believe, between two men," he said, addressing Harz.
"Let us come to the point. I will do you the credit to suppose that you
have a marriage in view. You know, perhaps, that Miss Devorell has no
money till I die?"

"Yes."

"And I am passably young! You have money, then?"

"No."

"In that case, you would propose to live on air?"

"No, to work; it has been done before."

"It is calculated to increase hunger! You are prepared