been any age between forty and fifty, with the wrecks of a very
fine agile-looking figure. Her face, which was plentifully bedaubed
with paint and powder, was sharp, fierce, and handsome, and crowned
with a mane of false yellow hair. Her eyes were cold and blue, her
lips thin and rather drawn, so as to show a double line of large and
gleaming teeth. She was dressed in a rich and hideous tight-fitting
gown of yellow satin, barred with black, and on her arms were long
bright yellow gloves. She moved lightly and silently, and looked
around her with a long-searching gaze, like that of a cat, and her
general appearance conveyed an idea of hunger and wicked ferocity.
Such was the outward appearance of the Tiger, and of a truth it
justified her name. "Why, where the dickens has he got to?" she said
aloud; "I wonder if he has given me the slip?"

"Here I am, Edith," said Mr. Quest quietly, as he stepped from the
balcony into the room.

"Oh, there you are, are you?" she said, "hiding away in the dark--just
like your nasty mean ways. Well, my long-lost one, so you have come
home at last, and brought the tin with you. Well, give us a kiss," and
she advanced on him with her long arms outspread.

Mr. Quest shivered visibly, and stretching out his hand, stopped her
from coming near him.

"No, thank you," he said; "I don't like paint."

The taunt stopped her, and for a moment an evil light shone in her
cold eyes.

"No wonder I have to paint," she said, "when I am so worn out with
poverty and hard work--not like the lovely Mrs. Q., who has nothing to
do all day except spend the money that I ought to have. I'll tell you
what it is, my fine fellow: you had better be careful, or I'll have
that pretty cuckoo out of her soft nest, and pluck her borrowed
feathers off her, like the monkey did to the parrot."

"Perhaps you had better stop that talk, and come to business. I am in
no mood for this sort of thing, Edith," and he turned round, shut the
window, and drew the blind.

"Oh, all right; I'm agreeable, I'm sure. Stop a bit, though--I must
have a brandy-and-soda first. I am as dry as a lime-kiln, and so would
you be if you had to sing comic songs at a music hall for a living.
There, that's better," and she put down the empty glass and threw
herself on to the sofa. "Now then, tune up as much as you like. How
much tin have you brought?"

Mr. Quest sat down by the table, and then, as though suddenly struck
by a thought, rose again