until he had left the room did
Feurgeres move from his place. Then he arose to his feet and held out
his hands to Isobel.

"I knew your mother, Isobel!" he said simply.

CHAPTER X

Isobel never hesitated. I think that instinctively she accepted him
without demur. Her eyes flashed back to him all those nameless things
which his own greeting had left unspoken. She took his hands, and looked
him frankly in the face.

"All my life," she said softly, "I have wanted to meet someone who could
say that to me."

He was dressed in a suit of mediaeval court clothes, black from head to
foot, and fashioned according to the period of the play in which he was
acting. But if he had worn the garments of a pierrot or a clown, one
would never have noticed it. The man's individuality, magnetic and
irresistible, triumphed easily. Mr. Grooten had passed away. It was the
great Feurgeres, whose sad shining eyes lingered so wistfully upon
Isobel's face.

"I can say more than that," he went on. "And now that I see you, Isobel,
I wonder that I have not said it long ago. You are like her, child--very
like her!"

"I am glad," Isobel murmured. "Please tell me--everything!"

"Everything--for me--is soon told," he answered, his voice dropping
almost to a whisper, his eyes still fixed upon Isobel's, yet looking her
through as though she were a shadow. "I loved your mother. I was the
man--whom your mother loved! The years of my life began and ended
there."

Their hands had fallen apart a little while before, but Isobel, with an
impulsive gesture, stooped down and raised the fingers of his left hand
to her lips. I turned away. It seemed like sacrilege to watch a man's
soul shining in his eyes. I walked to the other end of the long narrow
room, and examined the swords which lay ready for use against the wall.
It was not many minutes, however, before Feurgeres recalled me.

"To-night," he said, "I was coming to see Mr. Greatson."

"It is better," she murmured, "to have met you like this."

He smiled very slightly, yet it seemed to me that the curve of his lips
was almost a caress. There was certainly nothing left now of Mr.
Grooten.

"I think that I, too, am glad," he said. "Your mother suffered all her
life because she permitted herself to care for me. We mummers, you see,
Isobel, though the world loves to be amused, are always a little outside
the pale. I think," he added, with a curious little note of bitterness
in his tone, "t