ound slumber on the part of Sir Paul that night.
Nor did it aid in preserving his temper during the unpleasant scene
the following morning when Schwartzberger, still furious with rage,
called at the _hotel._

It was a relief, however, to Paul to have some object on which to vent
his pent-up feelings, and if the pork-packer did not quite understand
all that he said, Paul at least left no mistake in Schwartzberger's
mind as to the total lack of grounds for the latter's jealousy, and
filled him with a proper awe of the wrath of an Englishman once
aroused.

Paul realized that by the time she met Schwartzberger, if not before,
the Comtesse would discover the veiled emphasis on mere probability in
his parting suggestion as to any future meeting. So he was not
surprised to see the tonneau of the big green motor car with its
customary occupants whirling past him as he drove to the station that
afternoon.

Well! the unbelievable _faux pas_ which he had committed--thanks to
chance and his own imbecility--had turned him from his search. He no
longer had the heart to linger about Nice peering into strange ladies'
faces. The Lord only knew what blunder he would make next if he
continued to look for her there!

CHAPTER XIII

When Paul stepped down from a railway-carriage in the _Gare de l'Est_
in Paris two days later, his language had improved slightly. But he
was still cursing himself for a consummate ass.

Baxter, who had received instructions to meet him, relieved him of his
travelling bag, and a taximeter cab, whisking him quickly to the
_Place Vendome_, soon deposited him at the _Hotel du Rhin._

As for the Russian lady, Paul was a bit discouraged over the
adventure. Langres and Paris were two entirely different places. What
chance had he of finding her here?

He confessed to himself that it was not a promising undertaking, yet
sooner or later everyone came to Paris. Here he was, and here would he
stay, for a time at least. Perhaps,--who knew?--he might find her more
easily than he dared hope. And from his apartments he looked out over
the tree-tops.

The sight of miles and miles of chimney pots were not at all
reassuring.

"Well! I'll never find her, mooning away up here," he thought. "I'll
go down to dinner--and then for a plan of action."

That night he went to the theatre, but his thoughts were not for the
elegantly gowned daughters of respectable _bourgeoises_ who disported
themselves for his amuseme