rted.

"Probably. I begin to like the place, and I have found very
comfortable quarters at the Hotel Cornavin, near the station. You may
know it."

Could this be really so? Her perfect frankness amazed me. I could not
credit it, much less understand it. There was surely some pitfall,
some trap concealed for my abounding credulity.

"I also propose to stay some days, but am not yet established." I made
so bold as to suggest that I had a great mind to try her Hotel
Cornavin.

"Why not?" she replied heartily. "The accommodation is good, nice
rooms, civil people, decent _cuisine_. It might suit you."

She could not possibly have been more civil and gracious. Too civil by
half, a more cautious man might have told himself.

The tram-car by this time had run through the Place Molard, the
Allemand Marche, and was turning into the Rue de la Corraterie,
pointing upward for the theatre and the Promenade des Bastions. Where
was my involuntary companion bound?

She settled the question by getting out at the Place Neuve with a few
parting words.

"I have a call to make near here. I had forgotten it. Perhaps I may
hope to see you again. Do try the Cornavin. If so, _sans adieu_."

Was it good enough? I could not allow her to slip through my fingers
like this. What if her whole story was untrue, what if there was no
Hotel Cornavin, and no such guests there? I could not afford to let
her out of my sight, and with one spring I also left the car and,
catching a last glimpse of her retreating skirts, gave chase.

I cannot say whether she realized that I was following, but she led me
a pretty dance. In and out, and round and round, by narrow streets and
dark passages, backwards and forwards, as adroitly as any practised
thief eluding the hot pursuit of the police. At last she paused and
looked back, and thinking she had shaken me off (for knowing the game
well I had hastily effaced myself in a doorway) plunged into the
entrance of a small unpretending hotel in a quiet, retired square--the
Hotel Pierre Fatio, certainly not the Cornavin.

The door in which I had taken shelter was that of a dark third-rate
cafe well suited to my purpose, and well placed, for I was in full
view of the Hotel Pierre Fatio, which I was resolved to watch at least
until my lady came out again. As I slowly absorbed an absinthe,
revolving events past and to come, I thought it would be well to draw
Falloon to me. It was past the hour for our meeting.

I