The stranger nodded, smiling affably. His long nose was reminiscent.
"I've played there many a time."

Sergia's face watched him hopefully.

Uncle William's had grown a little stern. He bent toward the stranger.
"I don't think I jest caught your name," he said slowly.

"My name is Curie," said the man, politely--"Benjamin F. Curie." He
extracted a card from his pocket and handed it to Uncle William with a
deep bow.

Uncle William pinched it between his thumb and forefinger. He drew down
the spectacles from his tufts and examined it carefully. Then he bent
and snapped it in his fingers. "I don't know no such--"

A hand was laid lightly on his arm. "Come, we must look at the other
pictures. It is almost time to go."

The crowd had thinned a little and they walked through it easily, three
abreast. But Uncle William had moved to the other side of the girl,
as far away from the Frenchman as he could get. Now and then he cast a
glance of disapproval at the tall, dipping figure as it bent to the girl
or lifted itself to gaze at some picture. There was distrust in Uncle
William's glance, mingled with vague disturbance. When they paused
again, he moved around in front of the man. "The' 's suthin' kind o'
familiar about your face--" he began.

Sergia's hand was again on his arm.

He patted it lightly. "Don't you worry a mite, Sergia. I ain't goin' to
say anything rash. But it does seem to me as if I've seen Mr. Curie's
face somewheres or other. 'T ain't a face you're liable to forget."

The Frenchman acknowledged the compliment. "It is possible we have met.
You have traveled?"

"A leetle," admitted Uncle William.

Sergia's face relaxed. She moved away for a minute.

The Frenchman nodded. "We have doubtless met; but one forgets--" He
lifted his eyeglasses and surveyed Uncle William's round, good face. "It
doesn't seem as if I could have forgotten yours," he said thoughtfully.
"And yet I don't place it."

Sergia had returned. "He has been to St. Petersburg," she suggested.

The Frenchman's look cleared. "Ah--! It must have been there. It is a
privilege to have met you again, sir." He held out his long, slim hand.
"I wish you would come and see me. You have my address." He motioned to
the card.

Uncle William looked down at it. "I'm startin' for home to-morrow," he
said dryly.

"Indeed! And your home is--"

Sergia interposed a graceful hand. "Good-night, M. Curie. _You_ will
come and see _me_. Mama would be