that the
impression of the foot was barely visible.

He rose to his feet and continued his inquiry. Of course she had
expected him to look about. One couldn't help seeing, unless one were
blind. He would have cut off a hand before opening one of the
dressing-table drawers. But Marette herself had told him to hide behind
the curtains if it became necessary, and it was an excusable caution
for him to look behind those curtains now, to see what sort of
hiding-place he had. He returned to the door first and listened. There
was still no sound from below. Then he drew the curtains apart, as
Marette had drawn them. Only he looked longer. He would tell her about
it when she returned, if the act needed an apology.

His impression was a man's impression. What he saw was a billowing,
filmy mass of soft stuff, and out of it there greeted him the faintest
possible scent of lilac sachet powder. He closed the curtains with a
deep breath of utter joy and of consternation. The two emotions were a
jumble to him. The shoes, all that mass of soft stuff behind the
curtains, were exquisitely feminine. The breath of perfume had come to
him straight out of a woman's soul. There were seduction and witchery
to it. He saw Marette, an enrapturing vision of loveliness, floating
before his eyes in that sacred and mysterious vestment of which he had
stolen a half-frightened glimpse. In white--the white, cobwebby thing
of laces and embroidery that had hung straight before his eyes--in
white--with her glorious black hair, her violet eyes, her--

And then it was that the incongruity of the thing, the almost sheer
impossibility of it, clashed in upon his vision. Yet his faith was not
shaken. Marette Radisson was of the North. He could not disbelieve
that, even in the face of these amazing things that confronted him.

Suddenly he heard a sound that was like the explosion of a gun under
his feet. It was the opening and closing of the hall door--but mostly
the closing. The slam of it shook the house and rattled the glass in
the windows. Kedsty had returned, and he was in a rage. Kent
extinguished the light so that the room was in darkness. Then he went
to the door. He could hear the quick, heavy tread of Kedsty's feet
After that came the closing of a second door, followed by the rumble of
Kedsty's voice. Kent was disappointed.

The Inspector of Police and Marette were in a room too far distant for
him to distinguish what was said. But he knew that Keds