t up and moved to the table on
which Charlot had set decanters and glasses, and was about to take the
glass the dresser offered him when a tap on the door brought the
conversation to a sudden stop. The actor frowned: he did not want to be
bothered by more visitors. But curiosity got the better of his
annoyance and he told Charlot to see who it was.

Charlot went to the door and peered through a narrow opening at the
thoughtless intruder.

"Fancy making all this bother over a letter!" he growled. "Urgent? Of
course: they always are urgent," and he shut the door on the messenger
and gave the letter to Valgrand. "A woman brought it," he said.

Valgrand looked at it.

"H'm! Mourning! Will you bet, Charlot?"

"Deep mourning," said Charlot: "then I bet it is a declaration. I expect
you will win again, for very likely it is a begging letter. Black edges
stir compassion."

Valgrand was reading the letter, carelessly to begin with, then with
deep attention. He reached the signature at the end, and then read it
through again, aloud this time, punctuating his reading with flippant
comments: "'In creating the part of the criminal in the tragedy
to-night, you made yourself up into a most marvellous likeness of Gurn,
the man who murdered Lord Beltham. Come to-night, at two o'clock, _in
your costume_, to 22 rue Messier. Take care not to be seen, but come.
Someone who loves you is waiting for you there.'"

"And it is signed----?" said the dresser.

"That, my boy, I'm not going to tell you," said Valgrand, and he put the
letter carefully into his pocket-book. "Why, man, what are you up to?"
he added, as the dresser came up to him to take his clothes.

"Up to?" the servant exclaimed: "I am only helping you to get your
things off."

"Idiot!" laughed Valgrand. "Didn't you understand? Give me my black tie
and villain's coat again."

"What on earth is the matter with you?" Charlot asked with some
uneasiness. "Surely you are not thinking of going?"

"Not going? Why, in the whole of my career as amorist, I have never had
such an opportunity before!"

"It may be a hoax."

"Take my word for it, I know better. Things like this aren't hoaxes.
Besides, I know the--the lady. She has often been pointed out to me: and
at the trial---- By Jove, Charlot, she is the most enchanting woman in
the world: strangely lovely, infinitely distinguished, absolutely
fascinating!"

"You are raving like a schoolboy."

"So much the better for me!