, if I add that you have
not as yet spoken as to the urgency of this affair."

She turned from him impatiently, and, throwing herself back into the
chair from which she had risen at his entrance, she began to exchange
the thick woollen stockings which she had been wearing upon the stage
for others of fine silk.

"Oh, la, la!" she exclaimed. "You are very slow, Monsieur le Baron. It
is, perhaps, my stage name which has misled you. I am Marie Lapouse.
Does that convey anything to you?"

"A great deal," Peter admitted, quickly. "You stand very high upon the
list of my agents whom I may trust."

"Then stay here no longer," she begged, "for my maid waits outside, and
I need her services. Go back and make your excuses to your wife. In
forty minutes I shall expect you at the stage door."

"An affair of diplomacy, this, or brute force?" he inquired.

"Heaven knows what may happen!" she replied. "To tell you the truth, I
do not know myself. Be prepared for anything, but, for Heaven's sake, go
now! I can dress no further without my maid, and Andrea Korust may come
in at any moment. I do not wish him to find you here."

Peter made his way thoughtfully back to his seat. He explained the
situation to his wife so far as he could, and sent her home. Then he
waited until the car returned, smoking a cigarette and trying once more
to remember if he had ever heard anything of Andrea Korust or his
brother from Sogrange. Punctually at the time stated he was outside the
stage door of the music-hall, and a few minutes later Mademoiselle
Celaire appeared, a dazzling vision of furs and smiles and jewellery
imperfectly concealed. A small crowd pressed around to see the famous
Frenchwoman. Peter handed her gravely across the pavement into his
waiting motor-car. One or two of the loungers gave vent to a groan of
envy at the sight of the diamonds which blazed from her neck and bosom.
Peter smiled as he gave the address to his servant, and took his place
by the side of his companion.

"They see only the externals, this mob," he remarked. "They picture to
themselves, perhaps, a little supper for two. Alas!"

Mademoiselle Celaire laughed at him softly.

"You need not trouble to assume that most disconsolate of expressions,
my dear Baron," she assured him. "Your reputation as a man of gallantry
is beyond question, but remember that I know you also for the most
devoted and loyal of husbands. We waste no time in folly, you and I. It
is the bu