m was not the most natural and decorous for us. I am
still sore with excessive laughter. Again and again in the night I
woke up and simply bellowed."

The Sunday was again a very fine day, and Rust speaks of it still with
enthusiasm. Madame revealed herself to him, no longer as the seductive
siren, but as a true-hearted colleague and helper. He saw her not only
as a beautiful and most compelling fascinator, before whom he had
grovelled, but as a big-brained and big-souled friend. "She is the
only woman whom I have ever met with whom I would go tiger-shooting,"
said Rust to me. I will accept that one sentence as his considered
verdict; no greater tribute could be paid by a man to a woman.

At first he did not fully grasp that the Madame of that Sunday, the
real Madame, was wholly different from the one he had known before. As
they sat together upon the cliffs towards Rottingdean, he slipped his
arm about her waist. Gently, but very decidedly, she removed it. "No,
_mon ami_," said she. "All that has passed with the necessity for its
exercise. I do not play with my friends."

"Thank you," replied he--it was the brightest speech which Madame has
recorded of him. There is hope that Rust will, with years and
experience, develop in intelligence.

When Madame returned to London on the Monday, she sought an audience
of Chief Inspector Dawson, and told the whole story. He was not
pleased, but handsomely conceded that she had carried out her duties
with skill and enterprise. "The farce was not your fault," said he;
"it was entirely due to that French ass Froissart, who has no right to
play games of his own without consulting me. I will make a protest to
the Chief."

"Don't do that," urged Madame. "Froissart is rather a dear, and you
know that the fault was partly yours, for not taking him into your
confidence. I have determined to cultivate Froissart, and shall
endeavour to persuade him that your feminine assistants are not all of
microscopic intelligence and of repulsive appearance."

"You will succeed," said Dawson handsomely.

Froissart, to whom Rust reported, gleaned some consolation from the
failure of his agent. "This wonder of a woman, of whom I must
instantly make the honourable acquaintance, has saved the detested
Dawson from the deeps of humiliation. But we have scored off him most
surely. He has shown himself to be a blundering, conceited English
pig, and I will protest to the Chief that never again must he keep