recovered, however, and stated: "Ah! I was introduced to Mrs. Goddard's brother, Monsieur Correlli, a few evenings ago, but I have never had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Goddard. Now it is time for me to go, and I shall have to take an electric car to get back to my hotel. Again let me thank you for your timely service. I hope you and I will meet again sometime; and, dear, if you should ever need a friend, do not fail to come to me. Good-afternoon."

Shortly after the departure of Mrs. Stewart, as Edith was walking homeward, she was overtaken by Emil Correlli, who begged permission to attend her, as they were both bound for the same destination. It would have been rude to refuse, so Edith consented, although she would have preferred to go alone.

They had not advanced far before Edith became aware that they were followed by a woman, who kept parallel with them, on the opposite side of the street. Monsieur Correlli seemed unconscious of this fact, as he was apparently engrossed in the effort to entertain his companion with animated conversation. When they were within a few yards of Mrs. Goddard's residence, the woman suddenly darted across the avenue and placed herself directly in their path.

In an instant Emil Correlli seemed turned to stone, so motionless and rigid did he become. For a full minute his gaze was riveted upon the stranger, as if in horrible fascination. "_Giulia!_" he breathed, at last, in a scarcely audible voice. "_Le diable!_"

The woman had a veil over her face, but Edith could see that she was very handsome, with a warm, Southern kind of beauty, although it was of a rather coarse type. She was evidently a foreigner, with brilliant black eyes, an olive complexion, scarlet lips and cheeks, and a wealth of purple-black hair, which was coiled in a massive knot at the back of her head.

She was of medium height, with a plump but exquisitely proportioned figure, as was revealed by her closely-fitting garment of navy-blue velvet.

The moment Emil Correlli spoke her name, she burst passionately forth, and began to address him in rapidly uttered sentences of some foreign language, which Edith could not understand.

It was not French, for she could converse in that tongue, and she knew it was not German. She therefore concluded it must be either Italian or Spanish.

As the girl talked, her eyes roved from the man's face to Edith's, with angry, jealous glances, while she 

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