white satin, but better foot covering for the street. She cast over
the back of a chair, as she had done that other evening, her light
shoulder covering, a dark mantle, not of lace now, but of some thin
cloth. Her jewels were gone, and the splendor of her dark hair was free
of decoration. No pale blue fires shone at her white throat, and her
hands were ringless. But the light, firm poise of her figure could not
be changed; the mockery of her glance remained the same, half laughing
and half wistful. The strong curve of her lips remained, and I recalled
this arch of brow, the curve of neck and chin, the droop of the dark
locks above her even forehead. Yes, it was she. It could be no one else.

She clapped her hands and laughed like a child as she turned to me.
"Bravo!" she said. "My judgment, then, was quite correct."

"In regard to what?"

"Yourself!"

"Pardon me?"

"You do not show curiosity! You do not ask me questions! Good! I think
I shall ask you to wait. I say to you frankly that I am alone here. It
pleases me to live--as pleases me! You are alone in Montreal. Why should
we not please ourselves?"

In some way which I did not pause to analyze, I felt perfectly sure that
this strange woman could, if she cared to do so, tell me some of the
things I ought to know. She might be here on some errand identical with
my own. Calhoun had sent for her once before. Whose agent was she now? I
found chairs for us both.

An instant later, summoned in what way I do not know, the old
serving-woman again reappeared. "Wine, Threlka," said the baroness;
"service for two--you may use this little table. Monsieur," she added,
turning to me, "I am most happy to make even some slight return for the
very gracious entertainment offered me that morning by Mr. Calhoun at
his residence. Such a droll man! Oh, la! la!"

"Are you his friend, Madam?" I asked bluntly.

"Why should I not be?"

I could frame neither offensive nor defensive art with her. She mocked
me.

In a few moments the weazened old woman was back with cold fowl, wine,
napery, silver.

"Will Monsieur carve?" At her nod the old woman filled my glass, after
my hostess had tasted of her own. We had seated ourselves at the table
as she spoke.

"Not so bad for a black midnight, eh?" she went on, "--in a strange
town--and on a strange errand? And again let me express my approbation
of your conduct."

"If it pleases you, 'tis more than I can say of it for myself," I bega