with her husband, a prominent playwright. She was very pretty, and appeared frightened; and as I drew near the actor turned and gave her an embrace that ought to have reassured her, so far as the desperado was concerned. Then, as he loosed her, she caught sight of me and let out a little scream, at which Martet gave a jump that might have taken him to the top of the wall if it had been in the right direction. Seeing what I was, he scowled ferociously, and picked up the carving knife which he had dropped.
"Have you seen anything suspicious?" he demanded in his sonorous stage voice.
I smiled, and made a little gesture with my hand.
"A slight indiscretion, monsieur," I answered. "I have already forgotten it."
The lady giggled. The actor frowned, then burst into a laugh.
"Touché mon ami!" he said. "I was, of course, referring to this scoundrel of a burglar, not to a slight touch of midsummer madness."
"Indeed," says my lady, raising her eyebrows. "So it was that—and the champagne perhaps."
I smiled, touched my hat and passed on, leaving them to squabble and make it up. A little farther on I saw a tall white figure moving toward me at right angles. It disappeared behind some evergreens; then out into the path in front of me stepped Léontine.
I moved aside to let her pass, raising my hand to the brim of my hat. She shot me a quick glance, and seemed about to look away; then stared, and her amber-coloured eyes darkened. Then she raised her hand warningly, seemed to listen for an instant,
