I would avoid him like the
plague. He is not the kind of person desirable as a friend. You
understand."

"I gathered from his conversation that he was something of an
adventurer," I said.

"That's just it. Myself, I always avoid him," he replied. Then he
turned the conversation into a different channel. He congratulated me
upon our marriage and told me how Sylvia, when they had been alone
together for a few moments before dinner, had declared herself
supremely happy.

"I only hope that nothing may occur to mar your pleasant lives, my
dear fellow," he said, slowly knocking the ash from his cigar. "In the
marriage state one never knows whether adversity or prosperity lies
before one."

"I hope I shall meet with no adversity," I said.

"I hope not--for Sylvia's sake," he declared.

"What is for Sylvia's sake?" asked a cheery voice, and, as we both
looked up in surprise, we found that she had re-entered noiselessly,
and was standing laughing mischievously by the open door. "It is so
dull being alone that I've ventured to come back. I don't mind the
smoke in the least."

"Why, of course, darling!" I cried, jumping from my chair and pulling
forward an arm-chair for her.

I saw that it was a bright night outside, and that the autos with
their sparkling lights like shooting stars were passing and repassing
with honking horns up and down the Rue de Rivoli. For a moment she
stood at my side by the window, looking down into the broad
thoroughfare below.

Then, a second later, she suddenly cried--

"Why, look, Owen! Do you see that man with the short dark overcoat
standing under the lamp over there? I've seen him several times
to-day. Do you know, he seems to be watching us!"

"Watching you!" cried her father, starting to his feet and joining us.
The long wooden sun-shutters were closed, so, on opening the windows
which led to the balcony we could see between the slats without being
observed from outside.

I looked at the spot indicated by my wife, and then saw on the other
side of the way a youngish-looking man idly smoking a cigarette and
gazing in the direction of the Place de la Concorde, as though
expecting some one.

I could not distinguish his features, yet I saw that he wore brown
boots, and that the cut of his clothes and the shape of his hat were
English.

"Where have you seen him before?" I asked of her.

"I first met him when I came out of Lentheric's this morning. Then,
again, when we lunched at