w voice, but with great distinctness. Susie was
astounded. An abject apology was the last thing she expected.

He paused for Margaret's answer. But she could not bear to look at him.
When she spoke, her words were scarcely audible. She did not know why his
request to be forgiven made him seem more detestable.

'I think, if you don't mind, you had better go away.'

Haddo bowed slightly. He looked at Burdon.

'I wish to tell you that I bear no malice for what you did. I recognize
the justice of your anger.'

Arthur did not answer at all. Haddo hesitated a moment, while his eyes
rested on them quietly. To Susie it seemed that they flickered with the
shadow of a smile. She watched him with bewildered astonishment.

He reached for his hat, bowed again, and went.

8

Susie could not persuade herself that Haddo's regret was sincere. The
humility of it aroused her suspicion. She could not get out of her mind
the ugly slyness of that smile which succeeded on his face the first
passionate look of deadly hatred. Her fancy suggested various dark means
whereby Oliver Haddo might take vengeance on his enemy, and she was at
pains to warn Arthur. But he only laughed.

'The man's a funk,' he said. 'Do you think if he'd had anything in him at
all he would have let me kick him without trying to defend himself?'

Haddo's cowardice increased the disgust with which Arthur regarded him.
He was amused by Susie's trepidation.

'What on earth do you suppose he can do? He can't drop a brickbat on my
head. If he shoots me he'll get his head cut off, and he won't be such an
ass as to risk that!'

Margaret was glad that the incident had relieved them of Oliver's
society. She met him in the street a couple of days later, and since
he took off his hat in the French fashion without waiting for her to
acknowledge him, she was able to make her cut more pointed.

She began to discuss with Arthur the date of their marriage. It seemed
to her that she had got out of Paris all it could give her, and she
wished to begin a new life. Her love for Arthur appeared on a sudden
more urgent, and she was filled with delight at the thought of the
happiness she would give him.

A day or two later Susie received a telegram. It ran as follows:

Please meet me at the Gare du Nord, 2:40.

Nancy Clerk

It was an old friend, who was apparently arriving in Paris that
afternoon. A photograph of her, with a bold signature, stood on the
chimney-piece,