ttered. "The man's a genius! Violet, the small motor is
coming for you."

He was out of the box in a single step. Violet looked after him, looked
down upon the stage and across at Guillot's box. It was hard to
understand.

The curtain had scarcely rung up upon the second act of the ballet when
a young lady, who met from all the loungers, and even from the
door-keeper himself, the most respectful attention, issued from the
stage-door at the Empire and stepped into the large motor-car which was
waiting, drawn up against the kerb. The door was opened from inside and
closed at once. She held out her hands, as yet ungloved, to the man who
sat back in the corner.

"At last!" she murmured. "And I thought that you had forsaken me. It
seemed, indeed, dear one, that you had forsaken me."

He took her hands and held them tightly, but he answered only in a
whisper. He wore a sombre black cloak and a broad-brimmed hat. A muffler
concealed the lower part of his face. She put her finger upon the
electric light, but he stopped her.

"I must not be recognised," he said thickly. "Forgive me, Louise, if I
seem strange at first, but there is more in it than I can tell you. No
one must know that I am in London to-night. When we reach this place to
which you are taking me, and we are really alone, then we can talk. I
have so much to say."

She looked at him doubtfully. It was indeed a moment of indecision with
her. Then she began to laugh softly.

"Little one, but you have changed!" she exclaimed compassionately.
"After all, why not? I must not forget that things have gone so hardly
with you. It seems odd, indeed, to see you sitting there, muffled up
like an old man, afraid to show yourself. You know how foolish you are?
With your black cape and that queer hat, you are so different from all
the others. If you seek to remain unrecognised, why do you not dress as
all the men do? Anyone who was suspicious would recognise you from your
clothes."

"It is true," he muttered. "I did not think of it."

She leaned towards him.

"You will not even kiss me?" she murmured.

"Not yet," he answered.

She made a little grimace.

"But you are cold!"

"You do not understand," he answered. "They are watching me--even
to-night they are watching me. Oh, if you only knew, Louise, how I have
longed for this hour that is to come!"

Her vanity was assuaged. She patted his hand, but came no nearer.

"You are a foolish little one," she said, "ve