, sir."

"Never heard of the Queen of Spades in this connection?"

"Never, sir."

"Well, good-night, officer. Brownson's your name, eh? I shan't forget
it."

"Good-night, sir."

The night was fine, and we walked home. Over on Eighth Avenue a
masquerade ball was in progress; we passed under the brightly lit
windows of the hall in which it was being held. A masker stood at the
door, a woman dressed to impersonate the Queen of Spades. She waved her
hand to Indiman, who had chanced to look up; then she plucked a rose
from her bodice and tossed it over to him. He caught the flower, as
becomes a gallant man, but immediately walked on.

"That was your cue--the Queen of Spades," I said.

"Not at all. It is only the third time that counts. First at the opera,
and now here; the final and only important appearance is still to come."

At the next corner a wretchedly clad woman sat grinding a small
barrel-organ. "For the love of Mary!" she whimpered, and Indiman thrust
something into her waiting hand. He tried to hide the action, but I had
caught sight of the money--a yellow-backed bill bearing the magic
figures 50.

"Did you notice the tune?" said Indiman, as we walked on. "The
Ninety-and-Nine."

VI

The Queen of Spades

I am very fond of Esper Indiman, but there are times when he is
positively unfit for human society. Last week, for instance, when for
three days on end we did not exchange a single word, not even at
dinner, where the amenities should come on at least with the walnuts. I
grant you that humdrum wears upon the spirit, that the flatness of the
daily road may be a harder thing to get over than even Mr. Bunyan's
hill Difficulty, but for a man to surrender himself mind and body to
solitaire argues weakness. Moreover, it was a ridiculous combination of
the cards that Indiman invariably set himself to resolve; the chances
were at least a hundred to one against the solitaire coming out, and,
indeed, I never saw him get it but once. Under rather curious
circumstances, too--but I won't anticipate; let us begin with the
beginning of the adventure of the Queen of Spades.

You will remember that there was a mislaid letter whose possession had
become a matter of supreme importance to a certain great person in
Russia. The Countess Gilda (she of the Ninety-and-nine Kisses) had been
on the point of obtaining the treasure, but the over-confidence of my
friend Indiman, coupled with the blunders of a stupid det