nd that Louis
had taken me there with the object of meeting Tapilow, and for some
reason the truth was interesting to her.

"It was a quarrel about a woman, of course," she murmured,--"the
friend of monsieur, or perhaps a relation. I am jealous! Tell me,
then, that it was a relation."

"Mademoiselle," I answered gravely, "I cannot discuss with you the
cause of the quarrel between that man and myself. Forgive me if I
remind you that it is a very painful subject. Forgive me if I remind
you, too," I added, taking her other hand in mine for a moment, "that
when I saw you scribble those few lines and send them across to me,
and when I read what you said and came here, it was not to answer
questions about any other person."

She raised her eyes to mine. They were curiously and wonderfully
blue. Then she shook her head and withdrew her hands, sighing.

"But, monsieur," she said, "since then many things have happened. You
must not show yourself about in Paris. It is better for you to go back
to England."

"I am quite safe here," I declared.

"Then it has been arranged!" she exclaimed quickly. "Louis is, after
all, monsieur's friend. He has perhaps seen--"

"We will not talk of these things," I begged. "I would rather--"

She started, and drew a little away, glancing nervously toward the
door.

"I am terrified," she said. "Monsieur must come to my apartments one
afternoon, where we can talk without fear. There is one more question,
though," she continued rapidly. "Louis looked often at us. Tell me,
did he say anything to you about Monsieur Bartot and myself?"

"Nothing," I answered, "except that Monsieur Bartot held a somewhat
unique position in a certain corner of Paris, and that he was a person
whom it was not well to offend."

"No more?" she asked.

"No more," I answered.

"I saw him point us out to you," she remarked.

"I asked him to show me the most beautiful woman in the room," I
answered.

She shook her head.

"You are too much of a courtier for an Englishman," she said. "You do
not mean what you say."

"Even an Englishman," I answered, "can find words when he is
sufficiently moved."

I made a feint again to hold her hands, but she drew away.

"When are you going back to England?" she asked abruptly.

"To-morrow, I think," I answered, "if I am still free."

"Free!" she repeated scornfully. "If you are protected, who is there
who will dare to touch you? Monsieur Decresson has all the police
d