wistfully, and I half thought he meant to speak, but he
did not, save for a "good evening, sir," as I separated myself from him
at last. He had stuck rather too close, elbow to elbow; but I had no
fear for the letter-case, as he was on the wrong side to play any
conjurer's tricks with that. The last I saw of the fellow, he was
walking toward a cab, and looking uneasily over his shoulder at his two
late travelling companions, who were getting into another vehicle near
by.

I went straight to the Elysee Palace Hotel, where I had never stopped
before--a long drive from the Gare du Nord--and claimed the rooms for
which "Mr. George Sandford" had wired from London. The suite engaged was
a charming one, and the private salon almost worthy to receive the
lovely lady I expected. Nor did she keep me waiting. I had had time only
to give instructions about sending a man with a key to the station for
my luggage, to say that a lady would call, to reach my rooms, and to
draw the curtains over the windows, when a knock came at the salon door.
I was in the act of turning on the electric light when this happened,
but to my surprise the room remained in darkness--or rather, in a pink
dusk lent by the colour of the curtains.

"The lady has arrived, Monsieur," announced the servant. "As Monsieur
expected her, she has come up without waiting; but I regret that
something has gone wrong with the electricity, all over the hotel. It
was but just now discovered, at time for turning on the lights,
otherwise lamps and plenty of candles would have been provided, though
no doubt the light will fonctionne properly in a few minutes. If
Monsieur permits, I will instantly bring him a lamp."

"No, thank you," I said hurriedly, for I did not wish to be interrupted
in the midst of my important interview with Maxine. "If the light comes
on, it will he all right: if not, I will put back the curtains; and it
is not yet quite dark. Show the lady in."

Into the pink twilight of the curtained room came Maxine de Renzie,
whose tall and noble figure I recognised in its plain, close-fitting
black dress, though her wide brimmed hat was draped with a thickly
embroidered veil that completely hid her face, while long, graceful lace
folds fell over and obscured the bright auburn of her hair.

"One moment," I said. "Let me push the curtains back. The electricity
has failed."

"No, no," she answered. "Better leave them as they are. The lights may
come on and we be