Jason | Page 6

coat stood quite still
where she had been, and that her face was turned toward him,
watching.
"Did you notice that girl?" said Hartley, as they walked on at a brisker
pace. "Did you see her face? She was rather a tremendous beauty, you
know, in her gypsyish fashion. Yes, by Jove, she was!"
"Did I see her?" repeated Ste. Marie. "Yes. Oh yes. She had very
strange eyes. At least, I think it was the eyes. I don't know. I've never
seen any eyes quite like them. Very odd!"
He said something more in French which Hartley did not hear, and the
Englishman saw that he was frowning.
"Oh, well, I shouldn't have said there was anything strange about
them," Hartley said; "but they certainly were beautiful. There's no
denying that. The man with her looked rather Irish, I thought."
They came to the Etoile, and cut across it toward the Avenue Hoche.
Ste. Marie glanced back once more, but the motor-car and the delivery
boy and the gendarmes were gone.
"What did you say?" he asked, idly.
"I said the man looked Irish," repeated his friend. All at once Ste. Marie
gave a loud exclamation.
"Sacred thousand devils! Fool that I am! Dolt! Why didn't I think of it
before?"
Hartley stared at him, and Ste. Marie stared down the Champs-Elysées
like one in a trance.
"I say," said the Englishman, "we really must be getting on, you know;
we're late." And as they went along down the Avenue Hoche, he

demanded: "Why are you a dolt and whatever else it was? What struck
you so suddenly?"
"I remembered all at once," said Ste. Marie, "where I had seen that man
before and with whom I last saw him. I'll tell you about it later.
Probably it's of no importance, though."
"You're talking rather like a mild lunatic," said the other. "Here we are
at the house!"
* * * * *

II
THE LADDER TO THE STARS
Miss Benham was talking wearily to a strange, fair youth with an
impediment in his speech, and was wondering why the youth had been
asked to this house, where in general one was sure of meeting only
interesting people, when some one spoke her name, and she turned with
a little sigh of relief. It was Baron de Vries, the Belgian First Secretary
of Legation, an old friend of her grandfather's, a man made gentle and
sweet by infinite sorrow. He bowed civilly to the fair youth and bent
over the girl's hand.
"It is very good," he said, "to see you again in the world. We have need
of you, nous autres. Madame your mother is well, I hope--and the
bear?" He called old Mr. Stewart "the bear" in a sort of grave jest, and
that fierce octogenarian rather liked it.
"Oh yes," the girl said, "we're all fairly well. My mother had one of her
headaches to-night and so didn't come here, but she's as well as usual,
and 'the bear'--yes, he's well enough physically, I should think, but he
has not been quite the same since--during the past month. It has told
upon him, you know. He grieves over it much more than he will
admit."

"Yes," said Baron de Vries, gravely. "Yes, I know." He turned about
toward the fair young man, but that youth had drifted away and joined
himself to another group. Miss Benham looked after him and gave a
little exclamation of relief.
"That person was rather terrible," she said. "I can't think why he is here.
Marian so seldom has dull people."
"I believe," said the Belgian, "that he is some connection of De Saulnes'.
That explains his presence." He lowered his voice. "You have heard
no--news? They have found no trace?"
"No," said she. "Nothing. Nothing at all. I'm rather in despair. It's all so
hideously mysterious. I am sure, you know, that something has
happened to him. It's--very, very hard. Sometimes I think I can't bear it.
But I go on. We all go on."
Baron de Vries nodded his head strongly.
"That, my dear child, is just what you must do," said he. "You must go
on. That is what needs the real courage, and you have courage. I am not
afraid for you. And sooner or later you will hear of him--from him. It is
impossible nowadays to disappear for very long. You will hear from
him." He smiled at her, his slow, grave smile that was not of mirth but
of kindness and sympathy and cheer.
"And if I may say so," he said, "you are doing very wisely to come out
once more among your friends. You can accomplish no good by
brooding at home. It is better to live one's normal life--even when it is
not