lle were indeed lost the world was no longer a place for him. So
his feet fell wearily upon the thickly carpeted floor of the corridor,
and his face was unusually drawn and haggard as he opened the door of
his sitting-room.

And then--a transformation, amazing, stupefying. It was Lucille who
was smiling a welcome upon him from the depths of his favourite
easy-chair--Lucille sitting over his fire, a novel in her hand, and
wearing a delightful rose-pink dressing-gown. Some of her belongings
were scattered about his room, giving it a delicate air of femininity.
The faint odour of her favourite and only perfume gave to her undoubted
presence a wonderful sense of reality.

She held out her hands to him, and the broad sleeves of her
dressing-gown fell away from her white rounded arms. Her eyes were
wonderfully soft, the pink upon her cheeks was the blush of a girl.

"Victor," she murmured, "do not look so stupefied. Did you not believe
that I would risk at least a little for you, who have risked so much for
me? Only come to me! Make the most of me. All sorts of things are sure
to happen directly I am found out."

He took her into his arms. It was one of the moments of his lifetime.

"Tell me," he murmured, "how have you dared to do this?"

She laughed.

"You know the Prince and his set. You know the way they bribe. Intrigues
everywhere, new and old overlapping. They have really some reason for
keeping you and me apart, but as regards my other movements, I am free
enough. And they thought, Victor--don't be angry--but I let them
think it was some one else. And I stole away from the ball, and they
think--never mind what they think. But you, Victor, are my intrigue,
you, my love, my husband!"

Then all the fatigue and all the weariness, died away from Mr. Sabin's
face. Once more the fire of youth burned in his heart. And Lucille
laughed softly as her lips met his, and her head sank upon his shoulder.

CHAPTER XXI

Lady Carey suddenly dropped her partner's arm. She had seen a man
standing by himself with folded arms and moody face at the entrance
to the ball-room. She raised her lorgnettes. His identity was
unquestionable.

"Will you excuse me for a moment, Captain Horton," she said to her
escort. "I want particularly to speak to Mr. Brott."

Captain Horton bowed with the slight disappointment of a hungry man on
his way to the supper-room.

"Don't be long," he begged. "The places are filling up."

Lady Carey