ly shut off from all observation from the street.

"Now," she said, "I will show you something."

She walked towards the fireplace at the end of the room. On the
mantelpiece was a square of iron sheeting, painted white and studded
with curious-looking spikes in circles, triangles, and straight lines.
From a box close at hand she took half a dozen small glass bulbs, red
and blue. She placed them in a line on some of the spikes at intervals
of two inches. Then she retired to that side of the room where they had
entered. The distance was perhaps thirty feet.

Before Brett or Fairholme could vaguely guess her intention she whipped
a revolver out of her pocket. It would be idle to deny that they were
startled, but the woman paid not the least attention to them.

She steadily levelled the weapon and fired twice, smashing the two outer
balls of the six. Then she transferred the pistol to her left hand and
smashed another pair. Then she turned her back to the target, adjusted a
small mirror attached to the butt of the revolver, and smashed both of
the remaining bulbs by firing over her left shoulder. Sweeping round
with a triumphant smile towards the barrister, she said, "I can do that
in fifty other ways, but six will suffice."

"It is very clever, madame," he said. "May I ask why I am indebted to
you for this display?"

She replaced the revolver in her pocket. "It is my answer to your
question, monsieur," she said. "That is the way I and my friends often
talk to people who annoy us; and now I shall wish you good-day. You will
find other sights in Montmartre to interest you."

Brett laughed easily, and bowed low.

"Believe me," he said, "I will find few performers so expert and, may I
add, so discreet. We will meet again, and perhaps test your skill."

Without another word the party returned to the front room of the
restaurant, and Brett and Fairholme passed into the street where their
cab was waiting.

"I suppose she meant," said Fairholme "that if we were not jolly
careful she would put a bullet through our hearts as easily as through
those glass bulbs."

"Such was her intention," said Brett, dryly. "But women never have true
dramatic genius. That was a piece of melodrama which might suffice with
many of her class. It amused me, but it was a waste of time on her
part."

"Anyhow, we shall not get much out of her in the way of information."

"Oh, yes, we will. She will tell us everything. She has told me a great