s Ordeyne, dus from this
sort of thing," said Pasquale.

And he fished from the side of his chair, and held up by the tip of a
monstrous heel, the most audacious, high-instepped, red satin slipper I
ever saw.

I eyed the thing with profound disgust. I would have given a hundred
pounds for it to have vanished. In its red satin essence it was
reprehensible, and in its feminine assertion it was compromising.
How did it come there? I conjectured that Carlotta must have been
trespassing in the drawing-room and dropped it, Cinderella-like, in her
flight, when she heard me enter the house before dinner.

Pasquale held it up and regarded me quizzically. I pretend to no
austerity of morals; but a burglar unjustly accused of theft suffers
acuter qualms of indignation than if he were a virtuous person.
I regretted not having asked Pasquale to dinner at the club. I
particularly did not intend to explain Carlotta to Pasquale. In fact, I
see no reason at all for me to proclaim her to my acquaintance. She is
merely an accident of my establishment.

I rose and rang the bell.

"That slipper," said I, "does not belong to me, and it certainly ought
not to be here."

Pasquale surrendered it to my outstretched hand.

"It must fit a remarkably pretty foot," said he.

"I assure you, my dear Pasquale," I replied dryly, "I have never looked
at the foot that it may fit." Nor had I. A row of pink toes is not a
foot.

"Stenson," said I, when my man appeared, "take this to Miss Carlotta
and say with my compliments she should not have left it in the
drawing-room."

Stenson, thinking I had rung for whisky, had brought up decanter and
glasses. As he set the tray upon the small table, I noticed Pasquale
look with some curiosity at my man's impassive face. But he said nothing
more about the slipper. I poured out his whisky and soda. He drank a
deep draught, curled up his swaggering moustache and suddenly broke into
one of his disconcerting peals of laughter.

"I haven't told you of the Grefin von Wentzel; I don't know what put her
into my head. There has been nothing like it since the world began. Mind
you--a real live aristocratic Grefin with a hundred quarterings!"

He proceeded to relate a most scandalous, but highly amusing story. An
amazing, incredible tale; but it seemed familiar.

"That," said I, at last, "is incident for incident a scene out of
_L'Histoire Comique de Francion._"

"Never heard of it," said Pasquale, flashing.