Having yawned luxuriously, Merrihew sighed with perfect content. The pretty woman sitting opposite smiled at him tenderly, and he smiled back, abstractedly, as a man sometimes will when his mind tries to gather in comprehensively a thought and a picture which are totally different. Before him, in neat little lustrous stacks, stood seven thousand francs in gold, three hundred and fifty effigies of Napoleon the Little. And this was the thought which divided the smile with the picture. Seven thousand francs, fourteen hundred dollars, more than half the sum of his letter of credit! And all this prodigious fortune for a little gold put here, and a little gold put there, wisely, scientifically; for he would have strenuously denied that it was due to bald, blind luck. If only the boys at the club could see him now! He wet his lips suggestively, but the lust for gold was stronger than the call of tobacco. Tobacco could wait; fortune might not. Still, he took out a cigar, bit off the end, and put it back in his pocket. And where the deuce had Hillard gone? Twenty minutes to eleven, and no sign of him since the play began.

He counted off ten coins and placed them on the second dozen. The ball rolled into number twenty-three. He leaned back again with a second sigh, and the pretty woman smiled a second smile, and the wooden rake pushed the beautiful gold over to him. He was playing a system, one bet in every three turns of the wheel, in stakes of forty and eighty dollars. To be sure he lost now and then, but the next play he doubled and retrieved. Oh, the American Comic Opera Company should be well taken care of. He could play the good Samaritan after the manner of a prince, if, indeed, princes ever elected to play that role. Two more bets, and then he would pocket his winnings and go. He laid forty francs on number twenty-six and four hundred on black, leaned upon his elbows and studied the pretty woman, who smiled. If she spoke English.... He scribbled the question on a scrap of paper and pushed it across the table, blushing a little as he did so. She read it, or at least she tried to read it, and shook her head with the air of one deeply puzzled. He sighed again, reflecting that there might have been a pleasant adventure had he only understood French. Hang the legend of the Tower of Babel! it was always confronting him in this part of the world.

Twenty-six, black and even!

Merrihew slid back his chair and rose. He swept up the gold by the handful and poured it into his pockets, casually and unconcernedly, as if this was an every-day affair and of minor importance. But as a matter of fact, his heart was beating fast, and there was a wild desire in his throat to yell with delight. Eighteen hundred dollars, nine thousand francs! A merry music they made in his pockets. Jingle, jingle, jingle! Not only the good Samaritan, but the accursed thousand, that baneful thousand, that Nemesis of every New Year, might now be overtaken and annihilated. O happy thought! His pockets sagged, he could walk but stiffly, and in weight he seemed to have gained a ton. And then he saw Hillard coming across the hall. Instantly he forced the joy from his face and eyes and dropped his chin in his collar. He became in that moment the picture of desolation.

"Is it all over?" asked Hillard gravely.

"All over!" monotonously.

"Come over to the cafÉ, then. I've something important to tell you."

"Found them?" with rousing interest.

"I shall tell you only when we get out of this place. Come."

Merrihew followed him into the cloak-room; and as they came out into the night, Hillard put out a friendly hand.

"I am sorry, boy; I wanted you to win something. Cheer up; we'll shake the dust of this place in the morning."

Merrihew took off his hat and tossed it into the air hilariously. As it came down he tried to catch it on the toe of his pump, but active as he was he missed, and it rolled along the pavement. He recovered it quickly.

"Oh, for a vacant lot and a good old whooper-up! Feel!" he said, touching his side pockets. Hillard felt. "Feel again!" commanded Merrihew, touching his trousers pockets. Hillard, with increasing wonder, felt again.

"What is it?" he asked.

"What is it? It is four hundred and fifty napoleons!"

"What?" sharply, even doubtfully.

"That's what! Eighteen hundred dollars, more than three hundred and sixty pounds, nearly a million centesimi, and Heaven only knows what it would be in Portuguese. My system will have no funeral to-night. Pretty fair returns for two hours' work, by George! Now, come on."

He caught Hillard by the sleeve and fairly ran him over to the cafÉ. Here he pushed him into a chair and ordered the finest vintage he could find on the card. Then he offered one of the fatal cigars and lighted one for himself.

"Nearly two thousand!" murmured Hillard. "Well, of all the luck!"

"It does seem too good to be true. And what's more, I'm going to hang on to it. No more for me; I'm through. For the first time in my life I've won something, and I am going to keep it.... I say, what's the matter with your cravat?"

Hillard looked down at the fluttering end and reknotted it carelessly.

"I saw Kitty to-night," he said.

To Merrihew it seemed that all the clatter about him had died away suddenly. He lowered his cigar and breathed deeply. "Where is she?" He rose. "Sit down. I don't know where she is. I'll explain what has happened. And this is it."

Merrihew listened eagerly, twisting his cigar from one corner of his mouth to the other. Once he made a gesture; it was reproachful.

"And why did you bother about him? Why didn't you hold on to Kitty?"

"I confess it was stupid of me. But the gentleman with the scar was an unknown quantity. Besides, why should Kitty, in an episode like this, run away from me, of all persons? That's what is troubling me. And why, when I spoke to them in the Casino, did they ignore me completely?"

"It's your confounded prima donna; she's at the bottom of all this, take my word for it. Something's desperately wrong. Persons do not wear masks and hide in this manner just for a lark. And we have lost them again! Why didn't you knock him down?" hotly.

"I wanted to, but it wasn't the psychological moment. He recovered himself too quickly. You can't knock a man down when he practically surrenders."

"You're too particular. But what's the matter with Kitty? I don't understand. To see you was to know that I was round somewhere. She ran away from me as well as from you. What shall we do?"

"Start the hunt again, or give it up entirely. There are some villages between here and Nice. It must be in that direction; they were about to board the car for Nice. If you hadn't been gambling, if you had been sensible and stayed with me—"

"Come, now, that won't wash. You know very well that you urged me to play."

"You would have played without any urging."

The wine came, but the joy of drinking it was gone; and they emptied the bottle perfunctorily. To Merrihew everything was out of tune now. Why, Kitty Killigrew was worth all the napoleons in or out of France. And Kitty had run away! What was the meaning of it?

"And who is this Italian, anyhow? And why did he run after your prima donna?"

"That is precisely what I wish to find out," answered Hillard. "The lady whom you call my prima donna knew him and he knew her, and she must have had mighty good reasons for running."

"I'm afraid that Kitty has fallen among a bad lot. I'll wager it is some anarchist business. They are always plotting the assassination of kings over here, and this mysterious woman is just the sort to rope in a confiding girl like Kitty. One thing, if I come across our friend with the scar—"

"You will wisely cross to the opposite side of the street. To find out what this tangle is, it is not necessary to jump head first into it."

"A bad lot."

"That may be, but no anarchists, my boy."

Hillard was a bit sore at heart. That phrase recurred and recurred: "A lady? Grace of Mary, that is droll!" As he turned it over it had a bitter taste. The shadow of disillusion crept into his bright dream and clouded it. To build so beautiful a castle, and to see it tumble at a word! The Italian had spoken with a contempt which was based on something more tangible than suspicion. What was she to him, or, rather, what had she been? If she was innocent of any wrong, why all this mystery? Persecution? That did not necessitate masks and veils and sudden flights. Well, he was a man: even as he watched this cloud of smoke, he would watch the dream rise and vanish into the night.

Merrihew solemnly spun his wine-glass, but made no effort to refill it.

"I'm thinking hard," he said, "but I can't make out Kitty."

"No more can I. But if she ran away from me, she had a definite purpose, and some day we'll find out just what it was. I am more than half inclined to give up the chase entirely. You will see Kitty in New York again, and the whys and wherefores will be illumined. But if I keep on thinking of this masquerading lady, I shall get into a mental trouble which will not be at all agreeable. I would to Heaven that she had sung under any window but mine."

"All right. Kitty doesn't wish to meet us. So we'll light out for Venice in the morning. I'm not going to be made a fool of for the best woman alive."

"There is still the Campo Formosa. If they return to Venice, and doubtless they will, for I believe they came here to replenish their purses, we'll hunt up the Campo and make inquiries. It is not anarchism. Anarchists always need money, and they wouldn't let me slip through their fingers, once having taken hold of my curiosity in this way. You may be sure it is something deeper than that. Anarchism wouldn't interest a sensible little woman like Kitty."

"You never can tell what will interest a woman," said Merrihew owlishly.

"There's truth in that. But Kitty isn't romantic; she has her bump of caution."

"I agree to that. She refused me."

They both laughed quietly.

"Well, if nothing happens in Venice, we'll go to Verona, buy a pair of good saddle-horses, and take the road to Florence. That will be something worth while. And it will clear this romantic fog out of our heads."

"That's the most sensible thing you've said in a long time," said Merrihew, brightening considerably. "A leg up and a couple of hundred miles of these great roads! You've hit it squarely, by George! And out of my winnings we can buy ripping hunters. The American Comic Opera Company be hanged! But I'd give half of my winnings if I knew what was at the bottom of it all. Seems as if fate were moving us round for a pastime. We have probably passed and repassed the two women a dozen times."

"And but for those cigars—"

"Will you kindly forget that?"

"If you insist upon it."

"Thanks. We came over to see Italy; let's see it. Now, I'm for turning in. A bit headachey; infernally hot in the roulette room."

In truth, all the enthusiasm was gone from Merrihew's heart. Since Kitty evinced a desire to avoid him, the world grew charmless; and the fortune of Midas, cast at his feet, would not have warmed him. On the way over to the hotel, however, he whistled bravely and jingled the golden largess in his pockets. He bade good night to Hillard and sought his room. Here he emptied his pockets on the table and built a shelving house of gold. He sat down and began to count. Clink-clink! Clink-clink! What a pleasant sound it was, to be sure. It was sweeter than woman's laughter. And what symphony of Beethoven's could compare with this? Clink-clink! Three hundred and ninety, four hundred, four hundred and ten; clink-clink! And Hillard, turning restlessly on his pillow, heard this harsh music away into the small hours of the morning.

In the meantime the lamps in and about the Casino had been extinguished, and the marble house of the whirligig and the terraces lay in the pale light of the moon. Only the cafÉs remained open, and none but stragglers loitered there. The great rush of the night was done with, and the curious had gone away, richer or poorer, but never a whit the wiser. In the harbor the yachts stood out white and spectral, and afar the sea ruffled her night-caps. The tram for Nice shrieked down the incline toward the promontory, now a vast frowning shadow. At the foot of the road which winds up to the palaces the car was signaled, and two women boarded. Both were veiled and exhibited signs of recent agitation. They maintained a singular silence. At Villefranche they got out, and the car went on glowingly through the night. The women stopped before the gates of a villa and rang the porter's bell. Presently he came down the path and admitted them, grumbling. Once in the room above, the silence between the two women came to an end.

"Safe! I am so tired. What a night!" the elder of the two women sighed.

"What a night, truly! I should like to know what it has all been about. To run through dark streets and alleys, to hide for hours, as if I were a thief or a fugitive from justice, is neither to my taste nor to my liking."

"Kitty!" brokenly.

"I know! In a moment I shall be on my knees to you, but first I must speak out my mind. Why did you lose your head? Why did you not stand perfectly still when you saw that we were followed from the Casino? He would not have dared to molest us in the open. No, you had to run!"

"He would have entered the car with us, he would have known where we were going, he would have had the patience to wait till he saw beneath our veils. I know that man!" with a hopeless anger.

"It was your flight. It told him plainly that you recognized him."

"I was afraid, Kitty. It was instinct which caused me to fly, blindly."

"And there you left me, standing like a fool, wondering whether to run or not." Kitty was angry for half a dozen reasons. "And why should you run from any man?"

La Signorina did not reply, preferring to hold her tongue, lest it overthrow her. She unwound the thick veil and unpinned her hat. Her hands trembled, and in her eyes and about her mouth there was the weariness of ages. Yet, not all this weariness, not all these transitory lines of pain, took away one jot of her beauty.

"Kitty," she began sadly, "in this world no one trusts us wholly. We must know why, why; loyalty must have reasons, chivalry must have facts. You have vowed your love and loyalty a hundred times, and still, when a great crisis confronts me, you question, you grow angry, you complain, because my reasons are unknown to you. Because I am lonely, because I feel the need of even your half-hearted loyalty, I shall tell you why, why. Do you know what terror is? No. Well, it was blind terror which made me run. I counted not the consequences; my one thought was of instant flight. I shall tell you why I am lonely, why the world, bright to you, is dark. I am proud, but I shall bend my pride." With a quick movement she lifted her head high and her eyes burned into Kitty's very heart. "I am—"

"Stop! No, no! I forbid you!" Kitty put her hands over her ears. She might gain the secret, but she knew that she would lose the heart of the woman it concerned. "I am wrong, wrong. I have promised to follow you loyally, without question. I will keep that promise. I am only angry because you would not let me speak to Mr. Hillard. And when he called me by name, it was doubly hard. Had I not seen your hand waving from the doorway, I should have spoken. Who this Italian is I do not care. It is sufficient that you fear him. And I myself harbor no kind feelings toward him," rubbing her bruised wrist. "And if he comes down one side of the street I shall take to the other, to say nothing of dodging round the nearest corner. But he is very handsome," Kitty added thoughtfully.

"Are vipers handsome?"

"He is strong, too."

"Strong and cruel as a tiger. How I hate him! But thank you, Kitty, thank you. Sooner or later, if we stay together, I must tell you. The confidence will do me good. Look into my eyes." Kitty approached, and La Signorina drew her close. "Look in them. They will tell you that I have neither conspired nor plotted, save for my own happiness; that I have wrought harm to no one. But on my side they will tell you that I have been terribly wronged. And all I wish is to be left alone, alone. It was cruel of me to forbid you to speak to Mr. Hillard. But I do not want him tangled up in this miserable, hopeless labyrinth. I wish him to recollect me pleasantly, as a whimsical being who came into his life one night and vanished out of it in two hours."

"But supposing the memory cuts deeply?" ventured Kitty. "Men fall in love with less excuse than this."

"He does not even know what I look like; he knows absolutely nothing except the sound of my voice."

"It is all a blind man needs—a voice."

"Nonsense!" La Signorina opened the window to air the room. She lingered, musing. "You are very good to me, Kitty."

"I can't help being good to you, you strange, lovely woman! For your sake as well as for mine, I hope my letter from home will be in Venice when we arrive. Now I am going to write a letter."

La Signorina still lingered by the window.

Merrihew was pocketing currency in exchange for his gold, when Hillard passed an opened letter to him. It was early in the morning; the sky was as yellow as brass; patches of dew still dampened the sidewalks, and the air was still with the promise of heat in the later day. Merrihew stuffed the last bill into his wallet and gave his attention to the letter. He was not long indifferent, for the letter was from no less a person than Kitty. It was, however, addressed to Hillard.

My dear Mr. Hillard—Do not seek us. It will be useless. This sounds terribly ungrateful, but it must be so. If Mr. Merrihew is with you, and I suspect he is, tell him that some day I will explain away the mystery. At present I know no more than you do. But this please make plain to him: If he insists upon searching for me, he will only double my unhappiness.

Kitty Killigrew.