numerous they may or may not be,
Tristrem, without giving a single thought as to how such a thing should
be done and remain undetected, had had such chances in his favor that
Vidocq himself might have tried in vain to fasten the death of Weldon on
him. No one had seen him enter the house, no one had seen him leave it.
Even the instrument which he had used, and which he had bought
hap-hazard, as one buys a knick-knack, had served his end as cleanly as
a paralysis of the heart. It had not spilled a drop of blood.

As Tristrem walked on, he did not think of these things; the possibility
of detection had not troubled him, and now the probability that Weldon's
death would be attributed to natural causes brought him no satisfaction.
Of himself he gave no thought. He had wondered, indeed, that his
presence of mind had not deserted him; he had marvelled at his own calm.
But now his thoughts were wholly with Viola, and when he reached Fifth
Avenue he determined to go to her at once.

A vagabond hansom was loitering near, and with its assistance he
presently reached her door. Even as he entered, it was evident that she
was not alone. On putting his hat down in the hall he noticed two
others, and through the portiere came the sound of voices. But he pushed
the curtain aside, and entered the room with the air of one to whom the
conventional has lost its significance. Yet, as he did so, he felt that
he was wrong. If he wished to see Viola, would it not have been more
courteous to her to get into evening dress than to appear among her
guests in a costume suitable only for the afternoon? Society he knew to
be a despot. Though it has no dungeons, at least it can banish, and to
those that have been brought up in its court there are no laws rigider
than its customs. Besides, was he in a mood to thrust himself among
those whose chiefest ambition was to be ornate? He was aware of his
mistake at once, but not until it was too late to recede.

Among those present he recognized a man who, though well on in life,
devoted his entire time to matters appertaining to the amusements of the
selectest circles. He was talking to a girl who, moist as to the lips
and eyes, looked as had she just issued from a vapor-bath. Near to her
was Mrs. Raritan. Tristrem noticed that her hair had turned almost
white. And a little beyond, a young man with a retreating forehead and a
Pall Mall accent sat, splendidly attired, talking to Viola.

Mrs. Raritan was th