ne Smith."

"I really think you are mistaken. Monsieur de Courtois made the most
exhaustive inquiries."

"Were you not leaving the ceremony to the latest possible hour?" went
on Curtis, divided now between the fear of shocking her and the
paramount importance of learning the truth about the curiously
scrupulous Jean de Courtois.

"We were to have been married two days ago, but the license was stolen."

"So it is rather by accident than otherwise that Lord Valletort and
Count Vassilan, who, I take it, is with your father on board the
_Switzerland_, have not arrived in time to prevent the marriage--that
is, if they were able to prevent it?"

"No, I think not. Poor Monsieur de Courtois was here this afternoon,
and he was jubilant because we had plenty of time, provided we were
married this evening."

"Where was the ceremony to take place?"

"I--I don't know. I left everything in the hands of Monsieur de
Courtois."

A very real and active doubt of the Frenchman's good faith was
beginning to peep up in Curtis's mind. Rather to account for the
thoughtful lines on his forehead than for any reason connected with the
license, he took that document from the table, where it had lain since
he produced it, and affected to examine it judiciously. Therefore, he
was really surprised when he found an endorsement on the back which
read;--"Issued in duplicate. This license is not available if the
original has been used."

"Oh!" he said, and the monosyllable might mean much or little.

"What have you discovered there?" said the girl, rising and coming
nearer, to stoop over the table and scrutinize the paper with him.

"The original license certainly seems to have disappeared," said
Curtis, who had suddenly become aware that the propinquity of a
charming woman was one of the subtle joys of life.

"Ah me!" sighed Lady Hermione, straightening her supple form, and
turning slightly aside.

There was a little pause. Curtis, whose enunciation was usually
distinguished by its ease and clearness, found some slight difficulty
in resuming the conversation. He resolved firmly that, in future, he
would eschew liqueurs after champagne.

"I hate to act the role of inquisitor, Lady Hermione," he said, rather
huskily as to the first few words, "but would you mind telling me why
you are so opposed to Count Ladislas Vassilan as a husband?"

"First, because I do not want to marry any man; secondly, because Count
Vassilan is a vile