Anna the Adventuress

Courtlaw was pale and dishevelled. He was carelessly dressed, and

there were marks of unrest upon his features. He pointed to where the

lights still burned in Anna's windows.

"What do you think of that farce?" he exclaimed bitterly. "You are one

of those who must know all about it. Was there ever such madness?"

"I am afraid that I don't understand," Ennison answered. "You seem to

have come from Miss Pellissier's rooms. I had no idea even that she

was a friend of yours."

Courtlaw laughed hardly. His eyes were red. He was in a curious state

of desperation.

"Nor am I now," he answered. "I have spoken too many truths to-night.

Why do women take to lies and deceit and trickery as naturally as a

duck to water?"

"You are not alluding, I hope, to Miss Pellissier?" Ennison said

stiffly.

"Why not? Isn't the whole thing a lie? Isn't her reputation, this

husband of hers, the 'Alcide' business, isn't it all a cursed juggle?

She hasn't the right to do it. I----"

He stopped short. He had the air of a man who has said too much.

Ennison was deeply interested.

"I should like to understand you," he said. "I knew Miss Pellissier in

Paris at the 'Ambassador's,' and I know her now, but I am convinced

that there is some mystery in connexion with her change of life. She

is curiously altered in many ways. Is there any truth, do you suppose,

in this rumoured marriage?"

"I know nothing," Courtlaw answered hurriedly. "Ask me nothing. I will

not talk to you about Miss Pellissier or her affairs."

"You are not yourself to-night, Courtlaw," Ennison said. "Come to my

rooms and have a drink."

Courtlaw refused brusquely, almost rudely.

"I am off to-night," he said. "I am going to America. I have work

there. I ought to have gone long ago. Will you answer me a question

first?"

"If I can," Ennison said.

"What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier's flat to-night? You were

looking at her windows. Why? What is she to you?"

"I was there by accident," Ennison answered. "Miss Pellissier is

nothing to me except a young lady for whom I have the most profound

and respectful admiration."

Courtlaw laid his hand upon Ennison's shoulder. They were at the

corner of Pall Mall now, and had come to a standstill.

"Take my advice," he said hoarsely. "Call it warning, if you like.

Admire her as much as you choose--at a distance. No more. Look at me.

You knew me in Paris. David Courtlaw. Well-balanced, sane, wasn't I?

You never heard anyone call me a madman? I'm pretty near being one

now, and it's her fault. I've loved her for two years, I love her now.

And I'm off to America, and if my steamer goes to the bottom of the

Atlantic I'll thank the Lord for it."