ry foolish."

"It is not for you to say that," he replied. "If I have been foolish,
were not you often the cause of my folly."

Again she laughed.

"Oh, la, la! It is always the same! It is always you men who accuse! For
that presently I shall reprove you. But now--as for now, behold, we have
arrived!"

"It is a crowded thoroughfare," the man remarked nervously, looking up
and down Shaftesbury Avenue.

"Stupid!" she cried, stepping out. "I do not recognise you to-night,
little one. Even your voice is different. Follow me quickly across the
pavement and up the stairs. There is only one flight. The flat I have
borrowed is on the second floor. I do not care very much that people
should recognise me either, under the circumstances. There is nothing
they love so much," she added, with a toss of the head, "as finding an
excuse to have my picture in the paper."

He followed her down the dim hall and up the broad, flat stairs, keeping
always some distance behind. On the first landing she drew a key from
her pocket and opened a door. It was the door of Monsieur Guillot's
sitting-room. A round table in the middle was laid for supper. One light
alone, and that heavily shaded, was burning.

"Oh, la, la," she exclaimed. "How I hate this darkness! Wait till I can
turn on the lights, dear friend, and then you must embrace me. It is
from outside, I believe. No, do not follow. I can find the switch for
myself. Remain where you are. I return instantly."

She left him alone in the room, closing the door softly. In the passage
she reeled for a moment and caught at her side. She was very pale.
Guillot, coming swiftly up the steps, frowned as he saw her.

"He is there?" he demanded harshly.

"He is there," Louise replied; "but, indeed, I am angry with myself.
See, I am faint. It is a terrible thing, this, which I have done. He did
me no harm, that young man, except that he was stupid and heavy, and
that I never loved him. Who could love him, indeed? But, Guillot----"

He passed on, scarcely heeding her words, but she clung to his arm.

"Dear one," she begged, "promise that you will not really hurt him.
Promise me that, or I will shriek out and call the people from the
streets here. You will not make an assassin of me? Promise!"

Guillot turned suddenly towards her, and there were strange things in
his face. He pointed down the stairs.

"Go back, Louise," he ordered, "back to your rooms, for your own sake.
Remember that you l