ll nationalities and pretensions. But the evil was
beyond their power. At last an American specialist, who had won renown
by turning a famous woman of sixty into the semblance of a woman of
six-and-thirty--for a short time--was called in. Lady Holme knew
that his verdict must be final. If he could do nothing to restore her
vanished loveliness nothing could be done. After being closeted with her
for a long time he came out of her room. There were tears in his eyes.
To the footman who opened the hall door, and who stared in surprise, he
explained his emotion thus.

"Poor lady," he said. "It's a hopeless case."

"Ah!" said the man, who was the pale footman Lady Holme had sent with
the latch-key to Leo Ulford.

"Hopeless. It's a hard thing to have to tell a lady she'll always
be--be--"

"What, sir?" said the footman.

"Well--what people won't enjoy looking at."

He winked his eyes. He was a little bald man, with a hatchet face that
did not suggest emotion.

"And judging by part of the left side of the face, I guess she must have
been almost a beauty once," he added, stepping into the square.

That was Lady Holme now. She had to realise herself as a woman whom
people would rather not look at.

All this time she had not seen Fritz. He had asked to see her. He had
even tried to insist on seeing her, but so long as there was any hope in
her of recovering her lost beauty she had refused to let him come near
her. The thought of his eyes staring upon the tragic change in her face
sent cold creeping through her veins. But when the American had gone she
realised that there was nothing to wait for, that if she were ever to
let Fritz see her again it had better be now. The bandages in which
her face had been swathed had been removed. She went to a mirror and,
setting her teeth and clenching her hands, looked into it steadily.

She did not recognise herself. As she stood there she felt as if a
dreadful stranger had come into the room and was confronting her.

The accident, and the surgical treatment that had followed upon it,
had greatly altered the face. The nose, once fine and delicate, was
now coarse and misshapen. A wound had permanently distorted the mouth,
producing a strange, sneering expression. The whole of the right side of
the face was puffy and heavy-looking, and drawn down towards the chin.
It was also at present discoloured. For as Lady Holme lay under the car
she had been badly burnt. The raw, red tinge woul