of "these
English." For Paul's sudden departure cut short what the landlord
considered a really capable flight of oratory on his beloved
cathedral.

CHAPTER XI

Paul did not reach Nice in a particularly pleasant mood. He knew that
the task of finding the lady was much less simple than it had been at
Langres. But he made a thorough search through the visitors' lists of
all the hotels.

His persistence, however, found no reward. He could find no trace of
Mademoiselle Vseslavitch whatever.

He had been in Nice two days, and his unsuccessful search began to
tell upon his nerves. Realizing the need of relaxation of some
sort--some diversion which might for the time being, turn his mind
upon trivial things--he decided to spend an evening at Monte Carlo.

Paul was no great gambler--it was a sport in which he had never taken
more than a passing interest, but just then he thought it would serve
his purpose.

He found himself after dinner therefore in the Casino at Monte Carlo,
in a room flooded with light and with many people present--a quiet
room for all that, for there was little sound except the monotonous
cry of _croupiers_ and the sharp rattle of a ricochetting roulette
ball.

As his eyes grew accustomed to the light he stepped forward into the
room, only to stand still again and remain motionless, as though
turned to stone.

For there, at a long table in the centre of the room, with piles of
gold and notes before her, heavily veiled, sat--Mademoiselle
Vseslavitch.

A little cry which Paul could not prevent breaking from his lips drew
the eyes of all upon him. Mademoiselle herself glanced up and saw his
gaze upon her.

She started and instantly Paul turned away and endeavoured to hide
himself amid the odd jumble of men who stood round the table watching
the play.

"What was she doing here?" Paul thought. A thousand bewildering
conjectures flashed into his brain, only to prove inadequate.

Try as he might he could not reconcile the so obvious fact that she
was a lady with the peculiar incidents which trod hard upon each
other's heels. He recalled the meeting with the strange Frenchman,
which still remained a most baffling mystery.

Unconsciously, Paul took note of the men who hemmed the table in.
Every type of face presented itself--the fleshy cheeks of middle-aged
Jews, of pale clerks and salesmen, prosperous-looking men who might
have been commercial travellers, and here and there a more
refin