his hat with a true French
flourish. The lady laughed, showing a row of very white, even teeth, and
held out her hand. Her husband sprang forward, uttering an angry word of
remonstrance or command. The Frenchman grinned insolently, and answered
with a sneer.

The Englishman seemed to gain in dignity as he replied. His wife laughed
loudly and unpleasantly, however, and then, with a quick movement which
proved him agile as a cat, the Frenchman struck him with his cane across
the face. In another moment, Alan Walcott had taken him by the collar
and wrested the cane from his hand. Whether or no he would have
administered the thrashing that the man deserved must remain an
unsettled question, for hotel servants and functionaries came rushing to
the rescue, guests flocked to the scene in hopes of further excitement,
and all was bustle and confusion. Mrs. Walcott began to scream
violently, as soon as she saw signs of an impending conflict, and was
finally carried into the house in a fit of hysterics.

A very pretty little altercation between the two combatants--who were
separated with difficulty--and the landlord and his myrmidons then
followed. The police arrived rather late on the scene, but were speedily
quieted by assurances that peace was restored, and by the transfer of a
few coins from Alan Walcott's pockets to their own. The aggressor, who
gave his name as Henri de Hauteville, was politely requested to leave
the Hotel Venat; and Mr. Walcott declared his own intention of
proceeding to Paris next morning. Accordingly the Frenchman speedily
disappeared, but it was noticed that he dropped a word to his enemy,
which Walcott answered by a bend of his head, and that he was seen
shortly afterwards arm-in-arm with a young officer who was known to be
an enthusiast in the matter of duelling.

An hour later Alan Walcott was crossing the hall with a hurried step and
a face expressive of deep anxiety and vexation, when he encountered a
stout, fair Englishman, who greeted him with effusion.

"You here, Walcott? Never thought of meeting you."

"I'm glad to see you, Dalton. I was longing at that very moment for some
one to act as my friend."

"Not in the conventional meaning, I hope," laughed Dalton. "Your way of
putting it suggests a duel--which no Englishman of any sense would
embark in, I should hope!"

Dalton was a fresh-colored, blue-eyed man, of nearly thirty years of
age. His frankness of manner and shrewdness of expressi