"She is--well, she was Abner Fairbrother's wife. You know
Fairbrother, the millionaire who built that curious structure on
Eighty-sixth Street. At present they are living apart--an
amicable understanding, I believe. Her diamond makes her
conspicuous. It is one of the most remarkable stones in New York,
perhaps in the United States. Have you observed it?"

"Yes--that is, at a distance. Do you think her very handsome?"

"Mrs. Fairbrother? She's called so, but she's not my style." Here
he gave me a killing glance. "I admire women of mind and heart.
They do not need to wear jewels worth an ordinary man's fortune."

I looked about for an excuse to leave this none too desirable
partner.

"Let us go back into the long hall," I urged. "The ceaseless
whirl of these dancers is making me dizzy."

With the ease of a gallant man he took me on his arm and soon we
were promenading again in the direction of the alcove. A passing
glimpse of its interior was afforded me as we turned to retrace
our steps in front of the yellow divan. The lady with the diamond
was still there. A fold of the superb pink velvet she wore
protruded across the gap made by the half-drawn curtains, just as
it had done a half-hour before. But it was impossible to see her
face or who was with her. What I could see, however, and did, was
the figure of a man leaning against the wall at the foot of the
steps. At first I thought this person unknown to me, then I