rtis entered the hotel, and a night-porter took him up in the
elevator. When he opened the door of Suite F. its tiny lobby was in
darkness, but the lights in the sitting-room were switched on.
Evidently, then, neither he nor Devar was mistaken in identifying those
illuminated windows when the chase led them past the hotel. But he was
struck instantly by the fact that the door leading to Hermione's room
was wide open, and, before he could assimilate this singular fact, he
saw a note lying on a small table just where it must catch his eye on
entering his own bedroom.

Curtis was no soothsayer, but he was endowed with a penetrating and
usually accurate judgment, and he knew at once that Hermione had left
him. Although he had only seen her handwriting when she signed the
register at the clergyman's house he recognized the same free,
well-formed characters in the "John Delancy Curtis, Esq." on the
envelope. He paled, perhaps, and a pang of a pain crueller than bodily
ill may have wrung his heart, but he hesitated not a second about
opening the letter.

Then he read:

"DEAR MR. CURTIS:--My father has been here, and with him a Mr. Otto
Schmidt, a lawyer. They told me that Jean de Courtois is alive, and
that you know it, and have known it throughout. Gladly would I have
refused to believe them, but, sometimes, there are statements which
cannot be lies--which partake of truth in their very essence--which
sear their way into one's consciousness as white-hot iron scorches the
flesh. Still, owing to my trust in you, I clung to the frail hope that
there might be some mistake, so, when they had gone, I telephoned the
Central Hotel, and a clerk there assured me that Monsieur de Courtois
was in bed and asleep.

"What am I to say? Perhaps, silence is best. Marcelle and I are
returning to my apartments in 59th Street. Please do not come there.
I feel now that I have been selfish and misguided. I fear it will hurt
you if I ask to be permitted to bear the heavy expense you must incur
with regard to the wretched affair into which I have dragged you,
though involuntarily, or, shall I put it? with the blind striving for
succor of one sinking in deep waters. Yet, do me one last kindness,
and let me reimburse you. That would be a small concession to my
pride, because, in some respects, sorely as I am wounded, I shall
regard myself as ever in your debt.

"Sincerely yours,
HERMIONE.

"P.S. This person, Schmidt, seems to