e had
only seen him once or twice, and she knew him to be Charles's friend,
and in some sense his patron. For de Casimir held a high position in
Dantzig. She was quite ready to like him since Charles liked him; but
she intended to do so at her own range. It is always the woman who
measures the distance.

Desiree made a little movement as if to continue on her way; and de
Casimir instantly stood aside, with a bow.

"Shall I find your father at home?" he asked.

"I think so. He was at home when I left," she answered, responding to
his salute with a friendly nod.

De Casimir watched her go and stood for a moment in reflection, as if
going over in his mind that which had passed between them.

"I must try the other one," he said to himself as he turned down the
Pfaffengasse. He continued his way at a leisurely pace. At the corner of
the Frauengasse he lingered in the shadow of the linden trees, and while
so doing saw Antoine Sebastian quit the door of No. 36, going in
the opposite direction towards the river, and pass out through the
Frauenthor on to the quay.

He made a little gesture of annoyance on being told by the servant that
Sebastian was out. After a moment's reflection, he seemed to make up his
mind to ignore the conventionalities.

"It is merely," he said in his friendly and confidential manner to the
servant, in perfect German, "that I have news from Monsieur Darragon,
the husband of Mademoiselle Desiree. Madame is out--you say. Well, then,
what is to be done?"

He had a most charming, grave manner of asking advice which few could
resist.

The servant nodded at him with a twinkle of understanding in her eye.

"There is Fraulein Mathilde."

"But... well, ask her if she will do me the honour of speaking to me for
an instant. I leave it to you...."

"But come in," protested the servant. "Come upstairs. She will see you;
why not?"

And she led the way upstairs. Papa Barlasch, sitting just within the
kitchen door, where he sat all day doing nothing, glanced upwards
through his overhanging eyebrows at the clink of spurs and the clatter
of de Casimir's sword against the banisters. He had the air of a
watchdog.

Mathilde was not in the drawing-room, and the servant left the visitor
there alone, saying that she would seek her mistress. There were one or
two books on the tables. One table was rather untidy; it was Desiree's.
A writing-desk stood in the corner of the room. It was locked--and the
lock was