elieve me, I have no
wish you should suffer a second adventure such as the one through
which you have just passed."

"Thank you," said the girl in a scarcely audible voice. Then turning
towards him, she stretched out her hand impulsively.

"Thank you," she said. "Thank you. I cannot tell you how much I thank
you. You are a gentleman. It is not necessary to ask you as a
gentleman not to mention to anyone in the world what you have seen or
heard to-night."

Paul bowed.

"You may trust me absolutely," he said. "I give you my word of honour
that not one single word of this shall pass my lips. But may I say
something else? May I be allowed to make an offer of help? I have
money, I have many resources at my command. I would willingly pledge
myself to serve you in any way. I should be only too proud, too glad
to help."

"No, no!" cried the girl, sharply, with a piteous little gesture and
a note almost of agony in her voice.

The distress in her tones was so real that Paul made no further effort
to persuade her. So, lifting his hat, he stood waiting for her to take
leave of him. Once more she stretched out her hand impulsively, and he
took it in his own.

"Thank you," she said, in the same low, earnest voice, "thank you
again and again." Then she turned and walked quickly away.

Paul strolled slowly back to the hotel, in a more perplexed state of
mind than before. Was it possible that he had stepped suddenly into
the midst of some tragic mystery? What sorrow, what terror had made
the eyes of the girl so wistful and so beckoning?

That she might be suffering some profound grief, or might be the
centre of some bit of distressing family history, might well be
conceived. But what extraordinary combination of inappropriate events
could possibly cause her to seek to buy quittance of such a man as he
had left insensible?

He sat far into the night, turning all these things over in his mind.

Obviously it was not some question of personal honour which involved
the necessity of maintaining some sordid and disgraceful secret, or
the lady would not be risking her personal safety, and to a great
extent her reputation, by being present at such a rendezvous.

Whatever it might be--the mystery which embraced her--Paul determined,
whether it pleased her or not, that he would range himself on her
side.

To do this, however, it would be necessary to discover what the
mystery was, and he proceeded to set up and then demolish a t