Grand Rapids Herald-Review Newspaper, January 23, 1897, Page 2

CHAPTER XIII—(Continued.) The three daughters, safeguarded, it may be, by a somewhat niggardly al- lowance from Dame Nature of good looks, and by the withering finger of Father Time, were honest young wo- men enough, and hard-working, too, whenever they got a chance. And, by Zana came to look forward to them at tea-time, as a relief from the gr ence. y monctopy of her exist- Occasionally they were accompa- y their father, a talkative old n, with inexhaustible stores ef ical enecdotes to draw upon. Upon one such © on the conversa- tion turned upon the daughters’ pres- u uring an engagement in an ai Alhniabra ballet, of which were by no» is sanguine. the) “Ah! I remember the time,” broke in “when I could have put aye, and a dozea more, of that, in the front row In those days the pub- ned to the busi- Now all that the old man, you all there for the matte at double sal: lic wanted ues, so long as they and know how to they secure a couple nod artists for the pas- e nothing what they fill ha pad well. of reasonably a e pretty fi Sot ry all be true enough, dad,” ed the eldest of the trio, “but has to take the stage as one finds Tmph-” growled her father. “If you ssed the talent to do hings, you’d have ’ long enough ago, instead of x in the ruck, on a beggarly pit- know nothing of these things,” an- eswered Zana. “I have never even seen a ballet, though I have often seen dancir irls perform in India, In- deed, I once took great pains to learn some of their dances, for my own amusement claimed the old man, his up with professional en- ; they rested upon the re beauty of feature and re. “I can almost find it in me to w dancing ion.” . “Perh I shall,” replied Zana, with int little smile. “I must do some- thing as soon as I am strong enough to leave my kind hostess here, and I think I could do that, perhaps, better than anything else.” Out of this seemingly trivial conver- sation sprang results fraught with mo- mentous issues to Zana’s destiny. Her words sank deep into the mind of the old ballet-master, who, at first, dimly, and then more clearly, foresaw reason- able prospects of turning them to good s trained eye told him that ved, olive-skinned girl was a nseuse, if ev Nature created nd she had, moreover, the addi- attraction of exceptional person- y. Why should. not he, Fleury act as guide, philosopher and friend in the matter of bringing her out? Success would mean a large fortune for her, and a modest compe- east, for himself. Who better » in the wiles and devi- managers and impresarios? Clifford, he finally convinced him- . should be a star of the first mag- nitude, and he would be her business agent At first Zana was at a loss to ac- count for the sudden frequency of the old r 's Vi and his careless refer- Az ssful stage career. But he did not p her long in the dark as to his motives. “I have had a life-long experience in the pro! ion,” he told her, when he deemed the moment for plain-speaking had arrived. “and I am not likely to be mistal You should make an enor- mous hi danseuse, and an Oriental flavor to your dancing would be a noy- elt Some special training would, of course, 'e nee involving some hard work on your p: But your suc- And, if you will let me r agent, I will serve you and well.” Un Walked Mrs. Baxter Escorted by Josinh Skinner, think over these very unexpected pro- posals. She saw clearly that it be- heoved her to engage in some employ- rent without unnecessary delay; her stock of money would rot last rauch longer. Why not do as the old man id- vised? If she failed, she must try contident that she would not fail. She confident taht she would not fail. She decided to accept, ard oid Montmoren- cy’s heart was made glad within. Then followed a far greater surprise; for in the very midst of a very lengthy harangue, delivered by the newly-ap- pointed agent, upon the iniquities and avarice of theatrical managers, in walked Mrs. Baxter, escorted by Mr. Josiah Skinner, “Oh! my poor, pcor child-” cried the portly dame, making a rush to fold Za- na in her arms. ‘At last I have found you—thanks to Mr. Skinner's cleverness in unearthing pecple—but, dear me- at a queer place to find you in! You BY MAURICE H. HERVEY are looking pale and thin, too. What kas been the matter?” “J was taken ill very suddenly,” ex- plained Zana, when she had recovered from the first bewilderment of surprise, “and but for the care and attention which this good woman, Mrs. Sims, has lavished upon me, I do not think I should ever have rallied again.” “Then, ma’am, I hope you will do me the favor of reckoning Martha Baxter amongst your friends, from this day forth!” exclaimed the landlady of “The of a dispensaticn of Providence that this poor child should have fallen into such good hands, eh, Mr. Skinner?” In this opinion Mr. Skinner naturally concurred, and Mrs. Sims became quite nervous under all the eulogy of her con. duct, feebly protesting that she had done nothing at all that had not been repaid ten-fold by Miss Clifford’s liber- ality. “How did you find me out?’ queried Zana, anxious to avoid this part of the subject. “Well, it was a more troubleséme job than I expected,” answered Mr. Skin- ner. “But at last, I came across the policeman who spoke to you on the Em- What do you think, Miss Clif- ]- bankment, and then it was all easy enough. You were.seen leaving Black- friars Bridge in company with a crip- pled newsvender who frequents that “Child, Child Are You Bent on Com- passing Your Ruin. neighborhood. He was ‘shadowed’ (as we call it) to this place, and, of course, a few inquiries established the fact that you were here, too. So I tele- graphed to Mrs. Baxter, according to promise, and here we both are.” Old Montmorency viewed these visit- ors and their explanations with consid- erable alarm. What if his rising star should be carried off by this stout lady? Nor were his doubts allayed by Mrs. Baxter's next words: “Well, my dear,” she remarked, “as the old saying has it, ‘all's well that ends well.’ And I suppose, after all, these trying experiences of London life (I know all about that horrible place at Hammersmith and the brazen hussy in it, my dear), you are ready to go back with me to Southampton?’ Zana hesitated, as though in doubt how to frame her reply; and the eyes of all present were turned upon her. As for old Montmorency, he held his breath in the intensity of his anxiety. “Mrs. Baxter,” said Zana, at length, “pray do not misjudge either my mo- tives or my gratitude to you for your great kindness. But I have decided to remain in London. I will only beg of you, as a last favor, to forward my luggage, of which I am sorely in need.” “Remain in London?” repeated Mrs. Baxter. “Good gracious- What on earth for?” Again Zana paused, snd the ballet- master’s heart fairly thumped against his ribs. “I am going upon the stage,” she an- swered, very slowly and deliberately. Mr. Montmorency gave a sigh of re- lief, which seemed to come from his very boots, so long-drawn was it. Josi- ab raised his eyebrows in very evident surprise. But Mrs. Baxter was fairly overwhelmed. “She is going—upon the stage!” she repeated, blankly. Then, as though this were, indeed, the last straw, she waxed indignant. “Child! child!” she cried. “Are you bent upon compassing your own ruin? Don’t you know that ‘they who seek danger shall perish? ” “I know that I am going upon the stage,” was Zana’s reply; “and I be- lieve that in so doing I am obeying a will higher than my own.” “Not a doubt of it,” quoth old Mont- morency, rubbing his hands with glee. | “Not the smallest doubt of it!” CHAPTER XIV. The Light of the Harem. Autumn had succeeded summer ere Zana was deemed proficient enough in her new vocation to face the criticism of an Alhambra audience. Acting un- der old Montmorency’s advice, she had passed the interval in quiet lodgings in Brompton, in the immediate vicinity of a well known professional instructress in the art of stage-dancing; and, as she had thrown her whole soul into the work, her progress had been phenom- inally rapid. The old man was right in his estimate of her natural powers. Zana was a born danseuse, and what, to others, meant ceaseless effort and study, seemed to come to her as natur- ally as the flight of a bird. “Miss Clifford is simply a phenome- non,” was the oft-repeated verdict of Signora Leonardi, the instructress aforesaid, to the jubilant Montmoren- ey. “I doubt if her equal has been since the days of Taglioni. She will create a furore, mark my words.” Fortunately for the prospects of the young artiste, her zealous old agent was neither a fool nor a rogue. From the very first, he candidly avowed his lack of funds, and, having ascertained the amount still at Zana’s disposal, he financed for her with the utmost econ- omy. Nor would he accept any pay- men whatever for these preliminary services. “T shall find my account-in your suc- cess later on, my dear,” he would re- mark, with a cheerful disregard of present impecuniosity. ‘Meanwhile, you funds will barely suffice to tide you. ’ : over to the fvotlignts.” And this fore- east proved to be so literally true that it was found necessary to dispose of Zana’s remaining trinkets toward the close of her novitiate. But at last the clock struck 12. An interview between Montmorency and the Alhambra manager resulted in a second interview, between the latter and Zana, followed by some samples of her dancing in the presence of a small, ‘select body of experts. And the out- come of these interviews was that Za- na (still under the name of Miss Clif- ford) was engaged as premiere dan- seuse, in a new piece, to be called “The Light of the Harem,” for a period of one month, at a salary of sixty pounds per week. “They’d have fobbed you off with a quarter that sum, if I hadn't been be- bind you,” chuckled Mr Montmorency. “As it is, they wanted to insert an op- tional clause in the agreement, to re- tain you for six 1 ontbs, at the same salary, should you make a hit. But IL very quickly snuffed out that little game, I can tell you.” “The Light of the Harem,” as the ti- tle implied, was a‘travesty upon Ori- ental matrimonial customs, with Zana, vf course, in the role of the Sultan’s prime favorite. Such shadowy plot as ” warmly. “It is nothing short | there was turned npon the adventures of her Circassian lover, the intrigues of an amorous Grand Vizier, and the jealous rage of the Sultan himself; but, as usual, the entire perfortiance was little more than a succession of ballets, varied by the pas-seuls of the premier danseuse. From the very first moment of her entrance upon the scene Zana’s triumph was a foregone conclusion. Clad in some wonderful Eastern creation of crimson and gold, which set off rather than concealed the graceful lines of her willowy figure, her black hair falling in luxuriant masses to her waist, her glo- rious dark eyes lighting up the olive tints of the exquisitely-featured face, her every movement the perfection of grace—she looked, in sooth, the very in- carnation of an houri newly descended from Paradise. A dead hush fell upon the audience when, the footlights being lowered, she danced her first pas seul under the searching glare of the lime lights at the wings. But when she had conclud- ed the entire house rose at her, and greeted her with such thunders of ap- plause as the Alhambra walls have sel- dom re-echoed. She took one encore, but was recalled again and again, until it seemed as though not a man in that vast audience could reconcile himself to losing sight of her for even a few minutes. And when at length the cur- tain fell upon her final effort, the up- roar was so tremendous that it had to be raised again four successive times before the delighted onlookers would be satisfied. Zana took her triumph quietly enough, but Montmorency was almost frantic with delight. “I knew it!’ he declared, jubilantly. “I knew it from the first moment I set eyes on you, my dear. And now we shall see some rare fighting amongst the managers to secure you under a fresh engagement. The Alhambra man sounded me to-night about increasing your salary to eighty pounds, condi- tionally upon your signing for three months. But I fancy Harry Montmo- rency knows what he’s about. Long before the month is out you'll have half a dozen offers at three figures.” The old professional was once more right. So complete was the hold which Zana had taken upon the public fancy that competition to secure her services waxed fast and furious, until at length a great rival establishment rose to the exceptional figure of 150 pounds per week. And this her astute agent would most probably have closed with on her behalf, but for a simultaneous offer of 3,000 francs from the management of the Folies Bergere in Paris. “TI think we shall accept the Paris en- Clad in Some Wounderful Creation of Crimson and Gold. gagement,” remarkéd Montmorency. True, ’tis worth thirty pounds a week less than the Empire offers, but. then we must take the future into account. You’ve made a tremendous hit here in London. If you can score a similar success in Paris, that will put a cachet upon your reputation worth thousands to you hereafter. New York, for in- stance, is guided quite as much by Par- is as by London, and an American tour should bring in five or six times what you're earning now.” “You know best, Mr. Montmorency,” answered Zana, “and I am more than content to leave everything in your hands. After all, what does it matter to me where I dance? You must let me do what I like with my earnings, though,” she added, with a faint smile. “Then we shall accept Paris,” re- joined her agent, and Paris was accord- ingly accepted. ‘ Before they started for the French capital, Zana had the satisfaction of seeing worthy Mrs. Sims comfortably installed in a thriving little news vend- ing and tobacco-selling business, where- in Daft Billy was understood to have an interest. But, sooth to say, that er- ratic being displayed, not the faintest signs of any business capacity what- ever, under their new conditions. His preference still lay. in the direction of itinerant newspaper selling, and if his sales of extra special editions were meager, what else could be expected when he took up his stand nightly at the stage exit from the Alhambra? ‘There, unnoticed in a dark corner, he took up hig position to see Zana enter- ing the theater, and there he remained until she came out. Except on one never-to-be-forgotten night, indeed, when he treated himself to a seat in the gallery and actually saw her— the idol, the goddess of his poor, crazy brain—go through the whole of her per- formance. Heavens- How his heart beat and his head swam as the thun- ders of applause resounded through the vast theater- All those hundreds of people worshipped her, just as he did! Then he thought of a certain dark night upon Blackfriars bridge, and a mist seemed to come before his eyes as he shuffled his way out to get one more glimpse of her at the stage door. Poor Billy- $ He knew nothing of the Paris en- gagement for some time after Zana had left London. Night after night he Then He Remained Until She Came Out. returned to his usual post, but of her he saw nothing. Then he grew bold, and asked a scene shifter what had be- come of Miss Clifford. “Gone to Paris, to show there, mate,” was the reply. Gone to Paris! Where was Paris? Might it not be possible for him to fol- low her there? For to him it seemed that to live on in London, without even seeing her from time to time, was a thing hardly to be borne. “I'll ask Joe’s mother,” said Billy to himself. “She'll know where Paris is, and how to get there. She’s a rare one for knowing things, is Joe’s mother.” “As a matter of fact, Mrs. Sims did know whi Paris was, and, with the aid of a railway guide, borrowed from the stock in trade, was able to inform him that he could reach the desired goal, at excursion rates, for the sum of one pound. “Then if you'll lend me a pound,” quoth Billy, resolutely, “I’ll go there.” “Sakes alive!” exclaimed Mrs. Sims, utterly taken back by this announce- ment. “What on earth do you want to go to Paris for?” “Miss Clifford has gone there,” he an- swered, a little doggedly, as though anticipating opposition to his design, “and I'd like to be somewhere near at hand, just to keep an eye over her, you know.” Mrs. Sims looked at him pityingly; she had long ago discovered the secret of his heart, and she was far too wom- anly 2 woman to scoff at such hopeless infatuation. Yet she thought that a little mild banter might not be amiss now. “Why, Billy,” she said, playfully, surely a great star like Miss Clifford is not likely to stand in need of your help?” “Perhaps not,” assented Billy, sadly, “perhaps not. But it came in useful once, and might again, for all we know.” Mrs. Sims next tried arguments of a more serious nature, pointing out that, over and above the cost of the journey, there would be the daily expenses of living to provide for, and that for a crippled man to earn a_ livelihood amongst strangers in a foreign land was well nigh an impossibility. “TI expect folks buy newspapers and matches over there pretty much the same as they do here,” retorted Billy, and it stands to reason there must be doss houses and coffee stalls. Ill manage right enough, if you'll lend me the money for the journey.” \ “Oh, as for that,” said Mrs. Sims, frankly, “I owe you a tidy bit one way and another—to say nothing of your share in this business. So, if you have really set your heart upon going, I'll make things as easy as I can for you. Let me see—your fare there and back will come to two pounds. Say you stop there a fortnight at a pound a week (for, of course, you'll never earn any- thing amongst those parley-voos), that makes four pounds; and with, say, ten shillings extra, in case of accidents, there won’t be a great deal letf out of a five-pound note.” “Five pounds!” repeated Billy, rue- fully. “That's a lot of money, and you can’t spare it——” “Yes, I can,” interrupted Mrs. Sims, “thanks to Miss Clifford; and as you’re going on her service, you know (this with just a suspicion of irony in her tone), we'll say no more about the ex- pense, if you please.” “You're a rare one!” exclaimed Billy, in grateful admiration. “It’s my belief you’re never happy unless you're doing a good turn to some one or another.” Then his mood, fitful as an April day, changed to one of pathetic sadness. “Do you think I shall meet Miss Clif- ford by-and-by—after we’re both dead and buried, I mean?’ he asked, pres- ently. “Of course you will,” was the unhes- itating reply. “But “what puts such gloomy ideas into your head?” “Gloomy!” he repeated, doubtfully. “Are they To me the thought seems fuller of gladness and hope than aught else I can imagine. You’ve often told me about the future life, and a rare comfort it is, to a poor, crippled chap like me, to look forward to it. But don't the Good Book say anything of a past life before this one?” “No, Billy, not that I know of,” an- swered Mrs. Sims, somewhat puzzled by the question. “But why ask me? You read bettér than I do, aye, and understand what you read better, too, I think.” “No,” he protested; “what I read only | confuses my poor head. I know there | is a Present, I am told there will be a | Future. But I am left in the dark as to a Past. Yet, what with queer dreams, and strange fancies that take hold of me, I sometimes find it easier to believe that there has been a Past, when we were all different to what we are now, than that will be a future life for us. It makes my head swim think- ing of these things.” “Then don’t think of them,” coun- selled Mrs. Sinis, sagely. “Leaye them to the parsons, Billy. You'll want all yas wits about you for this French ip.” f “That's true,” he assented, brighten- ing up. “I dare say I shall find it a bit hard, at first, to pull along amongst those foreigners. But I'll get through right enough, never fear. Daft Billy is a deal cuter than some folks give him eredit for being.” Without for a moment disputing the truth of this vainglorious assertion, Mrs. Sims took the more practical steps of overhauling her wayward protege’s simple wardrobe (he had long ago emerged from the ragged stage), of buying him a third-class return ticket, and of furnishing him with the esti- mated expenses in French silver coins proqured at a money changer’s. Her son Joe, perhaps a little jealous of Billy’s mission, facetiously suggest- ed that he should be labeled “Paris,” by way of extra precaution; but, reap- ing no other reward for this happy in- spiration than a sound box on the car from his indignant parent, he found re- lief for his wounded feelings by pressing a hope that the traveler would find a diet of frogs and snails nutri. tious and satisfying. Whereat Billy laughed, in high good humor, and even Mrs. Sims relaxed into a smile. A shriek from the engine, many part- ing words of advice and farewell. Daft Billy was speeding Paris-wards in search of the lost “Light of the Ha- CHAPTER XV. Aux Folies Bergere. If he had been jubilant over his young debutante’s triumph in London, Monsieur de Montmorency (as he now modestly styled himself) could scarce restrain his enthusiasm within reason- able bounds when he realized that she bad achieved, if possible, a still more dazzling success in Paris. French aud- iences, when once their approval has been gained, are notoriously the most demonstrative in the world; and, 9s Zana’s appearance and dancing exact- ly hit off Gallic taste, she became a popular idol from the very first. This, of course, was very gratifying and satisfactory, but she soon discoy- ered that artistic fame has its incon- veniences. The better class of her ad- mirers were not content with limiting their expressions of homage to showers of bouquets and salvos of applause. Valuable presents of jewelry, usually accompanied by impassioned _ bille doux, found their way into the dress ing room, into her brougham, nay, into her private apartments. Against these expressions of admi tion she set her face resolutely. must find things sent back,” she told Montmoren ey, “and let it be known that I shall ou “Gone to Paris to Show There. neither accept gifts nor read letters from persons I do not- know.” The agent surveyed the continually- increasing heap of valuable offerings with a regretful sigh. To him, who had rubbed shoulders so long with pov- erty, it seemed a sad pity to reject portable property thus summarily. But, finding her very firm indeed in her re- solye, he obeyed her behests as well as he could. . “I have succeeded in restoring most of the presents to their original own- ers,” he remarked, some days later, “but there is one gentleman whose identity or whereabouts I can by no means discover. He has'sent no fewer than eight different packages, each ac- companied by a most respectfully word note, signed with the initials *R. S.,’ but giving no address. See- Here is yet another package, addressed to you, ‘Care of M. de Montmorency, aux Folies Bergere.’ ” Zana took the package listlessly, and opened it. It contained a case in red morocco leather and a sealed envelope. 'The latter she opened. “As Miss Clifford,” it ran, “has not condescended to wear any of his previ- ous offerings, the writer can only con- clude that they were not to her taste. He ventures to hope that the accom- panying bracelet may prove more ac- ceptable; the more so as, being of gen- uine Hastern make, it will be in keep- ing with the role so bewitchinzgly played by Miss Clifford. Should she honor him by wearing this last little tribute, the writer will be encouraz2d to reveal his identity, which is that of a very sincere admirer and well wish- er.—R. 8.” “Well!” inquired Montmorency, when Zana had perused the note. “Still anonymous?” “Yes,” she assented, somewhat irrita- bly; “read it for yourself.” Montmorency did so. “H’m-” was his comment. This man has more persist- ence and greater tact than the others. I wonder what the bracelet is like.” “Open the case, if you are so curi- ous,” she rejoined carelessly. Y Montmorency needed no second per- mission. “By George!” he exclaimed. “This R.S., whoever he is, must be a million- aire! Look at the bracelet!” It was of massive gold, quaintly wrought, and literally ablaze with dia- monds and rubies of evidently very great value. Zana started when her eyes fell on the glittering gems. Was she -mistak- en, or had she seen them, nay, owned them, before? Montmorency observed | her curiously as she narrowly inspect- ed the bracelet, thinking, doubtless, that so valuable a gift bade fair to triumph even over her scruples. “Shall I send it, with R. S.’s other presents, to the bureau at the Folies Bergere, to be kept until claimed?” he asked, drily. “The other things, yes,” auswered Zana, still narrowly examining the bracelet; “but this I shall keep—for the present, at all events.” With a self-satisfied smile at his own acumen, Montmorency made a parcel | ef the other gifts (pretty enough speci- means to have all these | | | ing that, | resided, a he ml wot rr,” you, girls are like trout. . They'll bh Tise to a fly, if its colors strike their fancy!” The result of Zana’s reflections aes to leave her in great doubt as to the identity of R. S.’s present with a cer- é tain bracelet which had heen amongst! the jewelry confided to Ernest Norton. It was certainly very like—exactly like, so far as her memory serve! her. But then the design (three coiled, interwov- én pythons) was a not uncommon cne in Indian bazaars; and it might well be that this was merely a duplicate of the other. Besides, even were it the same, might not R. 8. haye received it from, or purchasd it from, Ernest Nor- ton? For one brief moment her heart rose, despite herself, at the thought that R. S. might be Ernest himselé under false initials—repentant, perhaps, and seek- ing thus to pave the way to her for- giveness. But this idea she quickly dismissed as visionary, and, in the end, he resolved, come what might of it, to find out from R. 8. himself how he beeame possessed of the bracelet. She would wear it that ve night, and cover his thus. upon his own terms, | identity. Old Montmorency indulged in several self-satistied chuckles when he saw the jeweled pythons blazing upon the left arm of the Light of the Harem; but he registered an inward vow to keep 2 sharp lookout for the mysterious donor. Now,.how cool-headed Richard Som- erville ever allowed himself to become so infatuated with the new danseuse at the Folies Bergere, he would have found it hard to explain to himself. He had gone to see her, just as he had gone to see dozens of other popular fa- yorites, to while away an hour pleas- antly. But, having seen her, a very demon of passion had entered his soul. Her presence haunted him all that night and next di and 10 o'clock found him once more in a stall at tfie Yolies Bergere, awaiting, with an eager longing, the reappearance of his en- slavi his ig madness!” he told himself, but told himself in vai Night after night he felt himself dr vith irre- sistible force to feast his eyes upon this wondrous girl, and hi of course, increased at each v he found some vent for hi: feelings by sending her gifts of jewel- ry, hoping thereby to pave the way to an introduction. But tinding ordinary trinkets mptuously ignored, he had at last, in a fit of desperation, forced the pace, so to speak, by send- ing the bracelet. To his intense satisfaction she wore it that same night; and this, in the face of his letter, could mean nothing than consent on her t to make acquaintance. S note to her dr ¢ own full name and addr nd add- as he already knew where she the Avenue gny, he would venture to pay his respects to her personally the following day at 4 p. m., unless he heard from her to the contrary. Zana read the letter in her dressing room, decided to let matters take their course with respect to the proposed visit next day, and drove home, little dream- ing that her brougham was being fol- lowed by a fi p engaged for t pose by the crack-brained w: had saved her life on Black bridge. As a matter of fact, Billy had only that very night discovered the wherea- bouts of the theater where La Belle | Clifford was performing, and, rightly dreaming it of prime importance to as- certain where she lived, he had suc- ceeded in making a porter understand, by means of signs, that he was to keep within sight of the brougham she had entered. The French cabman, concludi probably that this queer-looking fare was an emissary from some one of mademoiselle’ countless dmirers, grinned intelligence, and pursued the brougham to within twenty yards of rigny, near the Cha address Billy carefully wrote down on a scrap of paper, and was driven to the Gare Saint Lazare, near which ter- minus he had discovered a cheap lodg- ing house kept by an Engli: peaking Dutchman. Billy was four franes the poorer for his drive, but immeasurably rich in the knowledge that he had as- certained his idol’s where=bouts. Punctually at the hour named, Rich- ard Somerville presented himself at No. 141 Avenue Marigny, and was ad- mitted to Zana’s presence. “I have come, Miss Clifford, as you see,” he began, bowing low, and in a tone of the most marked deference, “in glad response to your implied permis- sion.” you mean because I wore the brace- let?” replied Zana, half-inquiringly. “Certainly,” he assented. “That, and What do You Want to Go to Paris For. the non-receipt of any countermanding message from you. May I flatter my- self that the trinket meets with your approval?” i “It is very handsome,” said Zana, coldly, “and, I think, very uncommon,” “Like its new mistress,” put in Som- erville, gallantly, “and, like her, of Eastern origin, I believe. In fact, I have rather a weakness for Oriental workmanship, and have quite a collec tion of such gewgaws at home.” Instantly it flashed into Zana’s brain that a sight of these other jewele would go far to remove or to confirm her doubts as to the identity of the bracelet; but she was resolved that her visitor should. remain under no app Sy 2s to her motive in wearing Me (Zo be continued.) peg wate —