I made the necessary dispositions for the transport of Alresca in an

hour's time to his flat in the Devonshire Mansion, and then I sat down

near him. He was white and weak, but perfectly conscious. He had

proved himself to be an admirable patient. Even in the very crisis of

the setting his personal distinction and his remarkable and finished

politeness had suffered no eclipse. And now he lay there, with his

silky mustache disarranged and his hair damp, exactly as I had once

seen him on the couch in the garden by the sea in the third act of

"Tristan," the picture of nobility. He could not move, for the

sufficient reason that a strong splint ran from his armpit to his

ankle, but his arms were free, and he raised his left hand, and

beckoned me with an irresistible gesture to come quite close to him.

I smiled encouragingly and obeyed.

"My kind friend," he murmured, "I know not your name."

His English was not the English of an Englishman, but it was beautiful

in its exotic quaintness.

"My name is Carl Foster," I said. "It will be better for you not to

talk."

He made another gesture of protest with that wonderful left hand of

his.

"Monsieur Foster, I must talk to Mademoiselle Rosa."

"Impossible," I replied. "It really is essential that you should keep

quiet."

"Kind friend, grant me this wish. When I have seen her I shall be

better. It will do me much good."

There was such a desire in his eyes, such a persuasive plaintiveness

in his voice, that, against my judgment, I yielded.

"Very well," I said. "But I am afraid I can only let you see her for

five minutes."

The hand waved compliance, and I told the valet to go and inquire for

Rosa.

"She is here, sir," said the valet on opening the door. I jumped up.

There she was, standing on the door-mat in the narrow passage! Yet I

had been out of the room twice, once to speak to Sir Cyril Smart, and

once to answer an inquiry from my cousin Sullivan, and I had not seen

her.

She was still in the bridal costume of Elsa, and she seemed to be

waiting for permission to enter. I went outside to her, closing the

door.

"Sir Cyril would not let me come," she said. "But I have escaped him.

I was just wondering if I dared peep in. How is he?"




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