ched them with a
curious little thrill. They turned towards the Terrace. Very slowly he,
too, moved in the same direction. They passed through the gardens of the
Hotel de Paris, and Hunterleys, keeping to the left, met them upon the
Terrace as they emerged. As they came near he accosted them.

"Violet," he began.

She started.

"I beg your pardon," she said. "I did not recognise you."

"Haven't you been told," he asked stiffly, "that the Terrace is unsafe
for women after twilight?"

"Very often," she assented, with that little smile at the corners of her
lips which once he had found so charming and which now half maddened
him. "Unfortunately, I have a propensity for doing things which are
dangerous. Besides, I have my maid."

"Another woman is no protection," he declared.

"Susanne can shriek," Lady Hunterleys assured him. "She has wonderful
lungs and she loves to use them. She would shriek at the least
provocation."

"And meanwhile," Hunterleys observed drily, "while she is indulging in
her vocal exercises, things happen. If you wish to promenade here,
permit me to be your escort."

She hesitated for a moment, frowning. Then she continued her walk.

"You are very kind," she assented. "Perhaps you are like me, though, and
feel the restfulness of a quiet place after these throngs and throngs of
people."

They passed slowly down the broad promenade, deserted now save for one
or two loungers like themselves, and a few other furtive, hurrying
figures. In front of them stretched an arc of glittering lights--the
wonderful Bay of Mentone, with Bordighera on the distant sea-board;
higher up, the twinkling lights from the villas built on the rocky
hills. And at their feet the sea, calm, deep, blue, lapping the narrow
belt of hard sand, scintillating with the reflection of a thousand
lights; on the horizon a blood-red moon, only half emerged from the sea.

"Since we have met, Henry," Lady Hunterleys said at last, "there is
something which I should like to say to you."

"Certainly!"

She glanced behind. Susanne had fallen discreetly into the rear. She was
a new importation and she had no idea as to the identity of the tall,
severe-looking Englishman who walked by her mistress's side.

"There is something going on in Monte Carlo," Lady Hunterleys went on,
"which I cannot understand. Mr. Draconmeyer knows about it, I believe,
although he is not personally concerned in it. But he will tell me
nothing. I only know