The proprietress of the Hotel Saint Ange now stood close to Senator Burton
and his companion. Her voluble tongue was stilled for once: she was
twisting a corner of her blue check apron round and round in her strong,
sinewy-looking fingers.

"Well, Madame Poulain," the American spoke very gravely, "there has
evidently been some strange misunderstanding. This lady asserts most
positively that she arrived here last night accompanied by her husband,
Mr. Dampier."

A look of--was it anger or pain?--came over Madame Poulain's face. She
shook her head decidedly. "I have already told monsieur," she said quickly,
"that this lady arrived here last night alone. I know nothing of her
husband: I did not even know she was married. To tell you the truth,
monsieur, we ought to have made her fill in the usual form. But it was so
late that we put off the formality till to-day. I now regret very much that
we did so."

The Senator looked questioningly at Nancy Dampier. She had become from red
very white. "Do you understand what she says?" he asked slowly,
impassively.

"Yes--I understand. But she is not telling the truth."

The Senator hesitated. "I have known Madame Poulain a long time," he said.

"Yes--and you've only known me a few minutes."

Nancy Dampier felt as though she were living through a horrible