"It is as I said!" he exclaimed. "Mademoiselle expects you."

Laverick read the few lines which she had written.

I wish to see you after the performance. If you cannot come round or escort me yourself, will you come later to the restaurant of Luigi, where, as always, I shall sup. Do not fail.

Louise Idiale.

Laverick placed the note in his waistcoat pocket without immediate remark. Later on he turned to his companion.

"Will you tell Mademoiselle Idiale," he said, "that I will do myself the honor of coming to her at Luigi's restaurant. I have an engagement after the performance which I must keep."

"You will certainly come?" La.s.sen asked anxiously.

"Without a doubt," Laverick promised.

Mr. La.s.sen took up his hat...

"I will go and tell Mademoiselle. For some reason or other she seemed particularly desirous of seeing you this evening. She has her whims, and those who have most to do with her, like myself, find it well to keep them gratified. If I do not see you again, sir, permit me to wish you good evening."

He disappeared with several bows of his pudgy little person, and Laverick was left with another puzzle to solve. He was not in the least conceited, and he did not for a moment misinterpret this woman's interest in him. Her invitation, he knew very well, was one which half London would have coveted. Yet it meant nothing personal, he was sure of that. It simply meant that for some mysterious reason, the same reason which had prompted her to visit him in the city he was of interest to her.

At a few minutes before eleven Laverick left the place and drove to the stage-door of the Universal Theatre. Zoe came out among the first and paused upon the threshold, looking up and down the street eagerly. When she recognized him, her smile was heavenly.

"Oh, how nice of you!" she exclaimed, stepping at once into his taxicab. "You don't know how different it feels to hope that there is some one waiting for you and then to find your hope come true.

To-night I was not sure. You had said nothing about it, and yet I could not help believing that you would be here."

"I was hoping," he said, "that we might have another supper together.

Unfortunately, I have an engagement."

"An engagement?" she repeated, her face falling.

Laverick loved the truth and he seldom hesitated to tell it.

"It is rather an odd thing," he declared. "You remember that woman at Luigi's last night--Mademoiselle Idiale?"

"Of course."

"She came to my office to-day and gave me six thousand pounds to invest for her. She made me take her out and show her where the murder was committed, and asked a great many questions about it.

Then she insisted that I should go and hear her sing this evening, and I find that I was expected to take her on to supper afterwards.

I excused myself for a little while, but I have promised to go to Luigi's, where she will be."

The girl was silent for a moment.

"Where are we going now, then?" she asked.

"Wherever you like. I can take you home first, or I can leave you anywhere."

She looked at him with a piteous little smile.

"The last two nights you have spoiled me," she said. "I have so many evil thoughts and I am afraid to go home."

"I am sorry. If I could think of anything or anywhere--"

"No, you must take me home, please," said she. "It was selfish of me. Only Mademoiselle Idiale is such a wonderful person. Do you think that she will want you every night?"

"Of course not," he laughed. "Come, I will make an engagement with you. We will have supper together to-morrow evening."

She brightened up at once.

"I wonder," she asked timidly, a few minutes afterwards, "have you heard anything from Arthur? He promised to send a telegram from Queenstown."

Laverick shook his head. He said nothing about the marconigram he had sent, or the answer which he had received informing him that there was no such person on board. It seemed scarcely worth while to worry her.

"I have heard nothing," he replied. "Of course, he must be half-way to America by now."

"There have been no more inquiries about him?" she asked.

"No more than the usual ones from his friends, and a few creditors.

The latter I am paying as they come. But there is one thing you ought to do with me. I think we ought to go to his rooms and lock up his papers and letters. He never even went back, you know, after that night."

She nodded thoughtfully.

"When would you like to do this?"

"I am so busy just now that I am afraid I can spare no time until Monday afternoon. Would you go with me then?"

"Of course... My time is my own. We have no matinee, and I have nothing to do except in the evening."

They had reached her home. It looked very dark and very uninviting.

She shivered as she took her latchkey from the bag which she was carrying.

"Come in with me, please, while I light the gas," she begged. "It looks so dreary, doesn't it?"

"You ought to have some one with you," he declared, "especially in a part like this."

"Oh, I am not really afraid," she answered. "I am only lonely."

He stood in the pa.s.sage while she felt for a box of matches and lit the gas jet. In the parlor there was a bowl of milk standing waiting for her, and some bread.

"Thank you so much," she said. "Now I am going to make up the fire and read for a short time. I hope that you will enjoy your supper--well, moderately," she added, with a little laugh.

"I can promise you," he answered, "that I shall enjoy it no more than last night's or to-morrow night's."

She sighed.

"Poor little me!" she exclaimed. "It is not fair to have to compete with Mademoiselle Idiale. Good night!"