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I ‘ave–what do you say?–touched the spot.

‘In what you say,’ he has said, more calmly, ‘there is certainly something. It is a good hotel, this of mine!’

The only hotel, I have assured him. The Meurice? Chut! I snap my fingers. The Ritz? Bah! Once again I snap my fingers. ‘In all Paris there is no hotel like this.’

He ‘as simmered down. His shirt is tucked in. ‘Tell me again this plan of yours, Jean.’

When I leave ‘im we have come to an understanding. It is agreed between us that I am to ‘ave one last chance. He will not spoil this promising ship for the ‘a’porth of tar. He will give me money for my purpose. But he has said, as we part, if I fail, his ‘ands shall be washed of me. He cannot now forget that I am his dear brother’s child; but if I fail to accomplish the conquest of the divine Miss Marion, he thinks he will be able to.

It is well. A week later I follow the ‘Endersons to London.

For the next few days, monsieur, I am in Paradise. My ‘ost has much nice ‘ouse in Eaton Square. He is rich, popular. There is much society. And I–I have the succes fou. I am young, ‘andsome, debonair. I cannot speak the English very well–not so well as I now speak ‘im–but I manage. I get along. I am intelligent, amiable. Everyone loves me.

No, not everyone. Captain Bassett, he does not love me. And why? Because he loves the charming Miss Marion, and observes that already I am succeeding with her like a ‘ouse on fire. He is ami de famille. He is captain in your Garde Ecossais, and my ‘ost told me ‘e has distinguished himself as soldier pretty much. It may be so. As soldier, per’aps. But at conversation he is not so good. He is quite nice fellow, you understand–‘andsome, yes; distinguished, yes. But he does not sparkle. He has not my verve, my elan. I–how do you say?–I make the rings round him.

But, Chut! At that moment I would have made the rings round the ‘ole British Army. Yes, and also the Corps Diplomatique. For I am inspired. Love ‘as inspired me. I am conqueror.

But I will not weary you, monsieur, with the details of my wooing. You are sympathetic, but I must not weary you. Let us say that I ‘ave in four days or five made progress the most remarkable, and proceed to the tragic end.

Almost could I tell it in four words. In them one would say that it is set forth. There was in London at that time popular a song, a comic, vulgar song of the ‘Alls, ‘The Cat Came Back’. You ‘ave ‘eard it? Yes? I ‘eard it myself, and without emotion. It had no sinister warning for me. It did not strike me as omen. Yet, in those four words, monsieur, is my tragedy.

How? I shall tell you. Every word is a sword twisted in my ‘eart, but I shall tell you.

One afternoon we are at tea. All is well. I am vivacious, gay; Miss Marion, charming, gracious. There is present also an aunt, Mr ‘Enderson’s sister; but ‘er I do not much notice. It is to Marion I speak–both with my lips and also with my eyes.

As we sit, Captain Bassett is announced.

He has entered. We have greeted each other politely but coldly, for we are rivals. There is in his manner also a something which I do not much like–a species of suppressed triumph, of elation.

I am uneasy–but only yet vaguely, you will understand. I have not the foreboding that he is about to speak my death-sentence.

He addresses Miss Marion. There is joy in his voice. ‘Miss ‘Enderson,’ he has said, ‘I have for you the bally good news. You will remember, isn’t it, the cat belonging to the American woman in the hotel at Paris, of which you have spoken to me? Last night at dinner I have been seated beside her. At first I am not certain is it she. Then I say that there cannot be two Mrs Balderstone Rockmettlers in Europe, so I mention to her the cat. And, to cut the long story short, I have ventured to purchase for you as a little present the cat Alexander.’