hat plot I am in the midst of. What is the web
that has begun to surround me?'

'Plot?' stammered Hugo. 'Web?'

Her eyes flashed scrutinizingly on his face.

'You have a kind heart,' she said; 'everybody can see that. Be frank. Do
you know,' she asked in a different tone, 'or don't you, that you spoke
very gruffly to me this morning?'

'Miss Payne,' he began, 'I assure you--'

'I thought perhaps you didn't know,' she smiled calmly. 'But you did
speak very gruffly. Now, I have taken my courage in both hands in order
to come to you to-night. I may have lost my situation through it--I
can't tell. Whether I have lost my situation or not, I appeal to you for
candour.'

'Miss Payne,' said Hugo, 'it distresses me to hear you speak of a
"situation."'

'And why?'

'You know why,' he answered. 'A woman as distinguished as you are must
be perfectly well aware how distinguished she is, and perfectly capable,
let me add, of hiding her distinction from the common crowd. For what
purpose of your own you came into my shop, I can't guess. But necessity
never forced you there. No doubt you meant to avoid getting yourself
talked about; nevertheless, you have got yourself talked about.'

'Indeed!' She looked at him sideways.

'Yes,' Hugo went on; 'several thousands of commonplace persons are
saying that I have fallen in love with you. Do you think it's true, this
rumour?'

'How can I tell you?' said she.

'Well, it is true!' he cried. 'It's doubly and trebly true! It's the
greatest truth in the world at the present moment. It is one of those
truths that a believer can't keep to himself.' He paused, expectant. 'A
woman less fine than you would have protested against this sudden
avowal, which is only too like me--too like Hugo. You don't protest. I
knew you wouldn't. I knew you knew. You asked for candour. You have it.
I love you.'

'Then, why,' she demanded firmly, with a desolating smile--'why do you
have me followed by your private detective?'

Hugo was caught in a trap. He had hesitated long before instructing
Albert Shawn to shadow Camilla, but in the end his desire for exact
knowledge concerning her, and his possession of a corps of detectives
ready to hand, had proved too much for his scruples. He had, however,
till that day discovered little of importance for his pains--merely that
her parents, who were dead, had kept a small milliner's shop in Edgware
Road, that her age was twenty-five, that she had come to his mi