he shore to himself. He had formerly been
rather sensitive about being anywhere out of season. In fact, this was
the first time he had ever been here later than May. But the
difference was not so great as he had imagined it must be. Neither the
night sky nor the great turquoise mirror beneath it appeared out of
season.

Monte did not stray far. He walked contentedly back and forth for the
matter of an hour. He might have kept on until midnight, had it not
been for a messenger from the hotel who handed him a note.
Indifferently he opened it and read:

I've gone to the Hotel d'Angleterre. Please don't try to see me
to-night. Hastily,

MARJORY.

CHAPTER XIV

THE BRIDE RUNS AWAY

Henri, who was greatly disturbed, explained to Monte that madame came
downstairs shortly after monsieur left for his walk and asked for him.
Being told that monsieur had gone out, she too had gone out, wearing a
light shawl--to meet monsieur, as Henri supposed. In some fifteen
minutes madame had returned, appearing somewhat excited, if it were
permissible to say so. Thereupon she had given orders to have her
luggage and the luggage of her maid removed at once to the Hotel
d'Angleterre. Henri had assured her that if her rooms were not
suitable he would turn the house upside down to please her.

"No, no," she had answered; "it is not that. You are very kind, Henri."

He had then made so bold as to suggest that a messenger be sent out to
find monsieur.

"By all means," she had answered. "I will give you a note to take to
him."

She had sat down and written the note and Henri had dispatched it
immediately. But, also immediately, madame and her maid had left.

"I beg monsieur to believe that if there is anything--"

Monte waved the man aside, went to the telephone, and rang up the Hotel
d'Angleterre.

"I wish to know if a Madame Covington has recently arrived."

"Non, monsieur," was the response.

"Look here," said Monte sharply. "Make sure of that. She must have
reached there within fifteen minutes."

"We have had no arrivals here within that time except a Mademoiselle
Stockton and her maid."

"Eh?" snapped Monte. "Repeat that again."

"Mademoiselle Stockton," the clerk obeyed.

"She signed the register with that name?"

"But yes. If monsieur--"

"All right; thanks."

"You found her?" inquired Henri solicitously.

"Yes," nodded Monte, and went out into the night again.

There was nothing he