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“‘Is there a young lady staying here?’ I asked. ‘Tall, fair, handsome?’ and I slid the piece of gold into his palm.

“‘Well, yes, sir,’ he said, ‘there is a young lady, and she is all that you say, sir. Pardon me, Monsieur is English?’

“‘Yes,’ said I.

“‘Ah,’ said he, smiling mysteriously. ‘And it is Wednesday.’

“‘It is certainly Wednesday,’ I admitted, though I did not see that the day of the week mattered much.

“He came close to me and whispered:

“‘The lady thought you might come, sir. I think she expects you, sir. Oh, you can rely on my discretion, sir.’

“I was rather surprised, but not very much, for I had hinted to George Fitzmoine that I meant to try my luck, and I supposed that he had passed my hint on to his sister. My predominant feeling was one of gratification. Mary loved me! Mary expected me! There was complete mental sympathy between Mary and myself!

“I went up to my room in a state of great contentment. I had been there about half an hour when my friend the waiter came in. Advancing toward me with a mysterious air, he took a blank envelope out of his pocket and held it up before me with a roguish smile.

“‘Monsieur will know the handwriting inside,’ he said cunningly.

“Now I had never corresponded with Lady Mary, and of course did not know her handwriting, but I saw no use in telling the waiter that. In truth, I thought the fellow quite familiar enough. So I said shortly and with some hauteur:

“‘Give me the note;’ and I took another piece of gold out of my pocket. We exchanged our possessions, the waiter withdrew with a wink, and I tore open the precious note.

“‘Whatever you do,’ it ran, ‘don’t recognize me. I am WATCHED. As soon as I can I will tell you where to meet me. I knew you would come.–M.’

“‘The darling!’ I exclaimed. ‘She’s a girl of spirit. I’ll take good care not to betray her. Oh, we’ll circumvent old Dibbs between us.’

“At eight o’clock I went down to the salle a manger. It was quite empty. Mary and Miss Dibbs no doubt dined in their own sitting room, and there appeared to be no one else in the hotel. However, when I was halfway through my meal, a stylishly dressed young woman came in and sat down at a table at the end of the room farthest from where I was. I should have noticed her more, but I was in a reverie about Mary’s admirable charms, and I only just looked at her; she was frowning and drumming angrily with her fingers on the table. The head waiter hurried up to her; his face was covered with smiles, and he gave me a confidential nod en passant. Nothing else occurred except that a villainous looking fellow–something, to judge by his appearance, between a valet and a secretary–thrust his ugly head through the door three or four times. Whenever he did so the waiter smiled blandly at him. He did it the last time just as the lady was walking down the room. Seeing her coming he drew back and held the door open for her with a clumsy, apologetic bow. She smiled scornfully and passed through. The waiter stood grinning in the middle of the room, and when I, in my turn, rose, he whispered to me, ‘It’s all right, sir.’ I went to bed and dreamed of Mary.

“On entering the room next morning the first person I saw was Mary. She was looking adorably fresh and pretty. She sat opposite a stout, severe-looking dame in black. Directly my eyes alighted on her I schooled them into a studiously vacant expression. She, poor girl, was no diplomatist. She started; she glanced anxiously at Miss Dibbs; I saw her lips move; she blushed; she seemed almost to smile. Of course this behavior (I loved Mary the more that she could not conceal her delightful embarrassment!) excited the dragon’s curiosity; she turned round and favored me with a searching gaze. I was equal to the occasion. I comprehended them both in a long, cool, deliberate, empty stare. The strain on my self-control was immense, but I supported it. Mary blushed crimson, and her eyes sank to her plate. Poor girl! She had sadly overrated her powers of deception. I was not surprised that Miss Dibbs frowned severely and sniffed audibly.