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“Well, with another girl–but hang it, I don’t believe Maud would. Still, you see, it’s so dashed queer that sometimes—-“

“I’m sure she’s very fond of you,” said Miss Bussey, rather surprised fit the nature of the confidence which she was receiving.

“I expect it’s all right,” resumed Deane, more cheerfully, “and that brings us back to where we started, doesn’t it?”

“And we started in bewilderment.”

“You’re puzzled that Dora, Bellairs and Ashforth should pair off together, and—-?”

“Well, the other combination would seem more natural, wouldn’t it? Doesn’t it surprise you a little?”

“I’m never surprised at anything till I know it’s true,” said Sir Roger.

“What, you—-?”

They were interrupted by the return of their friends, and a move was made. Three vehicles were necessary to take them back, for the twos could, obviously, neither be separated from one another nor united with anybody else, and in procession, Miss Bussey and Deane leading, they filed along the avenues back to the Arc de Triomphe.

They had hardly passed the open Place when their progress was suddenly arrested. A crowd spread almost across the broad road, and sergents-de-ville imperiously commanded a halt. There was a babble of tongues, great excitement, and a thousand eager fingers pointing at a house. The doorway was in ruins, and workmen were busy shoring it up with beams. In the middle of the crowd there was an open circle, surrounded by gendarmes, and kept clear of people. In the middle of it lay a thing like a rather tall slim watering-pot, minus the handle. The crowd, standing on tiptoe and peeping over the shoulders of their guardians, shook their fists at this harmless-looking article and apostrophised it with a wonderful wealth of passionate invectives.

“What in the world’s the matter?” cried Miss Bussey, who was nervous in a crowd.

“Revolution, I suppose;” responded Deane calmly, mid turning to his nearest neighbor, he continued in the first French that came to him, “Une autre revolution, n’est-ce-pas, Monsieur?”

The man stared, but a woman near him burst into a voluble explanation, from the folds of which unlearned English ears disentangled, at the third reiteration, the ominous word, “Dynamite;” and she pointed to the watering-pot.

“Oh, it’ll go off!” shrieked Miss Bussey.

“It’s gone off,” said Sir Roger. “We’re too late,” and there was a touch of disappointment in his voice, as he turned and shouted to the others, “Keep your seats! It’s all over. Only an explosion.”

“Only!” shuddered Miss Bussey. “It’s a mercy we weren’t killed.”

It appeared that this mercy had not stopped at Miss Bussey and her friends. Nobody had been killed–not even the magistrate on the third floor for whose discipline and reformation the occurrence had been arranged; and presently the carriages were allowed to proceed.

Lady Deane’s grief at having missed so interesting an occasion was very poignant.

“No, Roger,” said she, “it is not a mere craving for horrors, or a morbid love of excitement; I wish I had been there to observe the crowd, because it’s just at such moments that people reveal their true selves. The veil is lifted–the veil of hypocrisy and convention–and you see the naked soul.”

“You could hear it too, Maud,” observed Sir Roger. “Fine chance of improving your French vocabulary. Still, I daresay you’re right.”

“I’m sure I am.”

Deane looked at his wife meditatively.

“You think,” he asked, “that being in danger might make people—-“

“Reveal their inmost natures and feelings? I’m sure of it.”

“Gad! Then we might try.”

“What do you mean, Roger?”

“Nothing. You’re going out with the General to-night? Very well, I shall take a turn on my own hook.”

As he strolled toward the smoking-room, he met Charlie Ellerton.

“Well, old fellow, had a pleasant afternoon?”

“Glorious!” answered Charlie in a husky voice.

“Are we to congratulate you?”

“I–I–well, it’s not absolutely settled yet, Deane, but–soon, I hope.”

“That’s right. Miss Bussey told me the whole story, and I think you’re precious lucky to get such a girl.”

“Yes, aren’t I?”

“You don’t look over and above radiant.”

“Do you want me to go grinning about the hotel like an infernal hyena?”