When he had watched Joan’s hansom speed away in the darkness, Victor Mercier walked along, then--hailing a passing cab, was driven to the theatre. As he went he anathematized Joan in the strongest of mining oaths. "Like all the rest," he bitterly thought. "Always another man--they must have a man hanging about them!" Alighting at the theatre, he met Naz, a fair, innocent-looking Frenchman, coming out. He joined him, saying "Come and have a drink." "You have lost much by being late, your half-sister is adorable!" said Naz, as they stood together at the bar of a neighbouring public-house. "No doubt!" said Mercier carelessly. "So is your Julie, eh? By the way, how is Julie’s mistress? Any news?" "As I said," returned Naz, in an undertone. "The beautiful creature is trapped at last, by a lover who has been out of the country to try and forget her, shooting big game! They ride--meet--he was with her when I posted you in the corridor that night. They passed me, you must have seen him." "Him--who?" muttered Mercier. There was a gleam in his eyes. "Lord Vansittart," replied Naz. "The Duchess has been heard to say it was a settled thing!" CHAPTER VIII The Duke’s valet prattled on until the second and third liqueurs had solaced his being. Then Victor glanced darkly at the clock. "Let us go," he roughly said. The softspoken Naz only thought that the delightful fluid which warmed and comforted his gentle self had had a reverse effect upon his old friend, so--following him gently as Mercier stalked gloomily into the theatre and up to the dress circle, which was well-packed with honest citizens and their wives in their ordinary habit as they lived--he returned to his seat by Julie, and left him to his own devices. The third act was over. In the fourth Mercier’s so-called "sister" had plenty to do. She was a peccant wife, revisiting home in disguise, and seeking her husband’s pardon. It was a pathetic scene, when she sought her husband and discovered herself. Throwing off her disguise--she was got up as an old woman--she emerged sweet, fascinating, in a white dress, with her black hair in Magdalen-like confusion, and sinking at his feet, alternately implored and adored with such passion and intensity that tears rolled down the feminine auditors’ cheeks, and the house literally rose to her.