ot discover; but it was almost impossible to
believe that he would have gone to Monte Carlo without finding out
something about Elinor--how and where she was. But whether this was the
cause of his utter silence, or whether it was the habit of men of his
class to treat such tremendous incidents in domestic life with levity,
John Tatham could not make out. He was congratulating himself, however,
upon keeping perfectly quiet, and leaving the conduct of the matter to
the other party, when the silence was disturbed in what seemed to him
the most curious way.

One afternoon when he returned from the court he was aware, when he
entered the outer office in which his clerk abode, of what he described
afterwards as a smell fit to knock you down. It would have been
described more appropriately in a French novel as the special perfume,
subtle and exquisite, by which a beautiful woman may be recognised
wherever she goes. It was, indeed, neither more nor less than the
particular scent used by Lady Mariamne, who came forward with a sweep
and rustle of her draperies, and the most ingratiating of her smiles.

"It appears to be fated that I am to wait for you," she said. "How do
you do, Mr. Tatham? Take me out of this horrible dirty place. I am quite
sure you have some nice rooms in there." She pointed as she spoke to
the inner door, and moved towards it with the air of a person who knew
where she was going, and was fully purposed to be admitted. John said
afterwards, that to think of this woman's abominable scent being left in
his room in which he lived (though he also received his clients in it)
was almost more than he could bear. But, in the meantime, he could do
nothing but open the door to her, and offer her his most comfortable
chair.

She seated herself with all those little tricks of movement which are
also part of the stock-in-trade of the pretty woman. Lady Mariamne's
prettiness was not of a kind which had the slightest effect upon John,
but still it was a kind which received credit in society, being the
product of a great deal of pains and care and exquisite arrangement and
combination. She threw her fur cloak back a little, arranged the strings
of her bonnet under her chin, which threw up the daintiness and rosiness
of a complexion about which there were many questions among her closest
friends. She shook up, with what had often been commented upon as the
prettiest gesture, the bracelets from her wrists. She arranged the ve