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‘Why?’ Melusine eyed him dubiously. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. Though, to be fair, he did not know of it until after the wedding. His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. The carte de jour was before Monsieur. To-morrow at twelve I'll be with you, Mr. “Perhaps,” he queried, “you wish to avoid being seen about with any one—er— connected with the profession, under present circumstances. "You will never leave me," sobbed the poor woman, straining him to her breast. She had seen a man’s head steal out for a moment and draw the curtains a little closer. “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes.
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