” He put his head on one side, pulled down the corners of his mouth, and looked at her over his glasses. Swiftly she ran her hands over the carvings, trying to find the lever to the secret panel again. ‘Jacques?’ she called out, forgetting the need for silence. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. He turned his eyes and stared at Miss Garvice like one who wakes from a reverie, and then got up and strolled down the laboratory toward his refuge, the preparation-room.
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