oured liquid and turned about in his mind the best means
of discovering the reason of Mademoiselle Vseslavitch's visit to
Langres.

He debated with himself whether it would not be better to go boldly
over to the hotel and made his presence known; but he reflected that
such a course might be unwise. Indeed, the very knowledge of his
presence might result in her abandoning the business which had called
her so suddenly from Lucerne.

As time went on he glanced up and down the street, watching everyone's
approach with interest. Towards half-past four his attention was
aroused by the appearance of a man whose aspect was out of keeping
with the little street.

The stranger was above middle height, and bore himself with a certain
air of quiet dignity. He was dressed in black, his clothes being well
cut, though of obviously foreign tailoring.

It was the man's face, however, which riveted Paul's attention. It was
very dark, and the nose was somewhat flat; not at all the prevailing
French type. Yet it was a face of great refinement and distinction,
accentuated in a strange way by a long, black, and well-trimmed
beard.

The man, plainly, was not a Frenchman, nor, Paul decided, was he a
German; certainly he was not an Italian nor an Austrian. A subtle
something about the man's whole appearance, indeed, brought Verdayne
to the conclusion that he was a Russian.

And then that rare gift of intuition which had always been Paul's
great aid in times of trouble told him that this dignified and
daintily-walking stranger was in some manner connected with
Mademoiselle Vseslavitch's presence at the _Hotel de la Republique_.

So certain of this was he that at once he took the precaution of
drawing further back into the _cafe_, where he could sit in the
shadows and watch the passage of the stranger without arousing any
interest himself.

Twice the black-bearded man walked up the street, glancing sharply at
the _Republique_, and twice he walked back with the same meditative
and dilatory air. Then he turned the corner and disappeared.

The proprietor of the inn busied himself about the _cafe_, and,
seeming curious about the visitor's long sojourn, Paul ordered a
further supply of the chicory-like coffee.

It was not long before his patience was rewarded. There was some
bustle about the door of the inn, and then he saw the fat landlady
bowing and scraping on the white doorstep, and out of the shadows into
the sunshine stepped the gi