door she had just passed through, which gave access to
the staircase, opened again and shut. The stranger who had entered came
leisurely towards the hall, lingering apparently now and then to look at
objects on the way. Presently a voice--an exclamation.

Kitty retreated, caught at the arm of a chair for support, clung to it
trembling. A man entered, holding his hat in one hand and a small white
glove in the other.

At sight of the lady in black, standing on the other side of the hall,
he started violently--and stopped. Then, just as Kitty, who had so far
made neither sound nor movement, took the first hurried step towards the
staircase by which she had entered, Geoffrey Cliffe came forward.

"How do you do, Lady Kitty? Do not, I beg of you, let me disturb you. I
had half an hour to spare, and I gave the old man down-stairs a franc or
two, that he might let me wander over this magnificent old place by
myself for a bit. I have always had a fancy for deserted houses. You, I
gather, have it, too. I will not interfere with you for a moment. Before
I go, however, let me return what I believe to be your property."

He came nearer, with a studied, deliberate air, and held out the white
glove. She saw it was her own and accepted it.

"Thank you."

She bowed with all the haughtiness she could muster, though her limbs
shook under her. Then as she walked quickly towards the door of exit,
Cliffe, who was nearer to it than she, also moved towards it, and threw
it open for her. As she approached him he said, quietly:

"This is not the first time we have met in Venice, Lady Kitty."

She wavered, could not avoid looking at him, and stood arrested. That
almost white head!--that furrowed brow!--those haggard eyes! A slight,
involuntary cry broke from her lips.

Cliffe smiled. Then he straightened his tall figure.

"You see, perhaps, that I have not grown younger. You are quite right. I
have left my youth--what remained of it--among those splendid fellows
whom the Turks have been harrying and torturing. Well!--they were worth
it. I would give it them again."

There was a short silence.

The eyes of each perused the other's face. Kitty began some words, and
left them unfinished. Cliffe resumed--in another tone--while the door he
held swung gently backward, his hand following it.

"I spent last winter, as perhaps you know, with the Bosnian insurgents
in the mountains. It was a tough business--hardships I should never have
ha