ore
convinced of the fact now. What the link was between the two women he
could not think, and he was almost afraid to attempt to solve the
mystery.

Dinner at an end, he rose and went to his room to put on a cloak. In
love though he was, he had still sufficient of his father's prudence
left to be careful of his health.

Descending to the courtyard once more, he called a fiacre, and, when
the man had driven up, inquired whether he knew where the Rue Jacquarie
was. The man looked at him with some show of surprise.

"Oui, m'sieu," he replied, "I know the Rue Jacquarie, of course;
but----"

"Never mind any buts," Browne replied, as he jumped into the cab. "I
have business in the Rue Jacquarie, so drive me there at once."

"To what number?" the man inquired, in a tone that implied that he was
not over-anxious for the job.

"Never mind the number," said Browne; "drive me to the corner and set
me down there."

The man whipped up his horse, and they started _via_ the Rue Tronchet.
Turning into the Rue St. Honore, and thence into the Place de la
Madeleine, they proceeded in the direction of Montmartre. For some
time Browne endeavoured to keep tally of the route; eventually,
however, he was obliged to relinquish the attempt in despair. From one
street they passed into another, and to Browne it seemed that every one
was alike. At last the driver stopped his horse.

"This is the Rue Jacquarie," he said, pointing with his whip down a
long and somewhat dingy thoroughfare.

Browne bade him wait for him, and then proceeded down the street on
foot in search of No. 35. After the magnificent quarter of the city in
which he had installed himself, the Rue Jacquarie seemed mean and
contemptible in the extreme. The houses were small and dingy, and it
was plain that they were occupied by people who were not the possessors
of any conspicuous degree of wealth. He walked the whole length of the
street in search of No. 35, and, not finding it, returned upon the
other side. At last he discovered the house he wanted. He thereupon
crossed the road, and, standing on the opposite pavement, regarded it
steadfastly.

Lights shone from three of the windows, and Browne's pulses beat more
quickly as he reflected that it was just possible one of them might
emanate from Katherine's room.

It was now close upon ten o'clock, and if all had gone well with them
the girl should now have been in Paris some three hours. It was
extremely