of the
impresario for, on a door which stood ajar, was nailed another dirty
card. Just as she was about to push it, it opened further to allow a
girl to come out. She was very fair; her cheeks were a little flushed; a
golden lock or two fell like keepsake ringlets on her low lace collar.
Victoria just had time to see that the blue eyes sparkled and to receive
a cheerful smile. The girl muttered an apology and, smiling still,
brushed past her and lightly ran down the stairs. 'A successful
candidate,' thought Victoria, her heart rising once more.

She entered the room and found it empty. It was almost entirely bare of
furniture, for little save an island of chairs in the middle and faded
red cloth curtains relieved the uniform dirtiness of the wall paper
which once was flowered. One wall was entirely covered by a large poster
where half a dozen impossibly charming girls of the biscuit box type
were executing a cancan so symmetrically as to recall an Egyptian
frieze. The mantlepiece was bare save for the signed photograph of some
magnificent foreign-looking athlete, nude to the waist. Victoria waited
for a moment, watching a door which led into an inner room, then went
towards it. At once the sound of a chair being pushed back and the fall
of some small article on the floor told her that the occupant had heard
her footsteps. The door opened suddenly.

Victoria looked at the apparition with some surprise. In a single glance
she took in the details of his face and clothes, all of which were
pleasing. The man was obviously a foreigner. His face was pale, clean
shaven save for a small black moustache closely cropped at the ends; his
eyes were brown; his eyebrows, as beautifully pencilled as those of a
girl, emphasized the whiteness of his high forehead from which the hair
receded in thick waves. His lips, red and full, were parted over his
white teeth in a pleasant smile. Victoria saw too that he was dressed in
perfect taste, in soft grey tweed, fitting well over the collar and
loose everywhere else; his linen was immaculate; in fact nothing about
him would have disgraced the Chandraga mess, except perhaps a gold ring
with a large diamond which he wore on the little finger of his right
hand.

'Mr Carrel?' said Victoria in some trepidation.

'Yes, Mademoiselle,' said the man pleasantly. 'Will you have the
kindness to enter?' He held the door open and Victoria, hesitating a
little, preceded him.

The inner room was almost