th another, especially one so
beautiful. You seem to be alone here?"

Now she remembered having seen him before--rather frequently. The previous
evening he had somewhat ostentatiously selected a table near hers at
dinner. He had watched her as she had left the theater and followed her to
the lift door. He had been watching for his opportunity and now thought it
had come. She shivered with sudden anger, and round her heart crept the
chill of fright which all women know who have been followed in a lonely
street.

"I certainly am not alone," she said wrathfully. "Good morning."

The man covered his defeat by raising his hat with ironic politeness, and
Zora walked swiftly away, in appearance a majestic Amazon, but inwardly a
quivering woman. She marched straight up to the recumbent Dix. The Literary
Man from London would have been amused. She interposed herself between the
conversing Teutons and awakened the sleeper. He looked at her for a moment
with a dreamy smile, then leaped to his feet.

"A man has insulted me--he has been following me about and tried to get
into conversation with me."

"Dear me," said Septimus. "What shall I do? Shall I shoot him?"

"Don't be silly," she said seriously. "It's serious. I'd be glad if you'd
kindly walk up and down a little with me."

"With pleasure." They strolled away together. "But I _am_ serious. If you
wanted me to shoot him I'd do it. I'd do anything in the world for you.
I've got a revolver in my room."

She laughed, disclaiming desire for supreme vengeance.

"I only want to show the wretch that I am not a helpless woman," she
observed, with the bewildering illogic of the sex. And as she passed by the
offender she smiled down at her companion with all the sweetness of
intimacy and asked him why he carried a revolver. She did not point the
offender out, be it remarked, to the bloodthirsty Septimus.

"It belongs to Wiggleswick," he replied in answer to her question. "I
promised to take care of it for him."

"What does Wiggleswick do when you are away?"

"He reads the police reports. I take in _Reynolds_ and the _News of the
World_ and the illustrated _Police News_ for him, and he cuts them out and
gums them in a scrap book. But I think I'm happier without Wiggleswick. He
interferes with my guns."

"By the way," said Zora, "you talked about guns the other evening. What
have you got to do with guns?"

He looked at her in a scared way out of the corner of his eye,
chil