liers. Died short, I suppose, and the
girls had to shift for themselves. One went in for painting, kept
straight and married old Ferringhall a week or so ago--the Lord help
her. The other kicked over the traces a bit, made rather a hit with
her singing at some of those French places, and went the pace in a
mild, ladylike sort of way. Cheveney was looking after her, I think,
then. If she's over, he probably knows all about it."

Ennison looked steadily at the cigarette which he was tapping on his
forefinger.

"So Cheveney was her friend, you think, eh?" he remarked.

"No doubt about that, I fancy," Meddoes answered lightly. "He ran some
Austrian fellow off. She was quite the rage, in a small way, you know.
Strange, demure-looking young woman, with wonderful complexion and
eyes, and a style about her, too. Care for a hundred up?"

Ennison shook his head.

"Can't stop, thanks," he answered. "See you to-night, I suppose?"

He sauntered off.

"I'm damned if I'll believe it," he muttered to himself savagely.

But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague.

* * * * *

The same night he met Meddoes and Drummond together, the latter over
from Paris on a week's leave from the Embassy.

"Odd thing," Meddoes remarked, "we were just talking about the
Pellissier girl. Drummond was telling me about the way old Ferringhall
rounded upon them all at the club."

"Sounds interesting," Ennison remarked. "May I hear?"

"It really isn't much to tell," Drummond answered. "You know what a
fearful old prig Ferringhall is, always goes about as though the whole
world were watching him? We tried to show him around Paris, but he
wouldn't have any of it. Talked about his years, his position and his
constituents, and always sneaked off back to his hotel just when the
fun was going to begin. Well one night, some of us saw him, or thought
we saw him, at a cafe dining with 'Alcide,'--as a matter of fact, it
seems that it was her sister. He came into the club next day, and of
course we went for him thick. Jove, he didn't take to it kindly, I can
tell you. Stood on his dignity and shut us up in great style. It seems
that he was a sort of family friend of the Pellissiers, and it was the
artist sister whom he was with. The joke of it is that he's married to
her now, and cuts me dead."

"I suppose," Ennison said, "the likeness between the sisters must be
rather exceptional?"

"I never saw the g