"We may have to go down town.... No! as I live, there he is now!" "Where?" There was half a sob in her throat. "The table by the short flight of stairs ... the man just lighting the cigarette. I'll go alone." "But I can not stand here alone in the middle of the floor...." I called a waiter. "Give this lady a chair for a moment;" and I dropped a coin in his palm. He bowed, and beckoned for her to follow.... Women are always writing fool things, and then moving Heaven and earth to recall them. "Monsieur de Beausire?" I said. Beausire glanced up. "Oh, eet ees.... I forget zee name?" I told him. "I am delight'!" he cried joyfully, as if he had known me all my life. "Zee chair; be seat'...." "Thank you, but it's about the hats." "Hats?" "Yes. It seems that the hat I gave you belongs to another man. In your haste you did not notice the mistake. _This_ is your hat,"--producing the shining tile. "_Mon Dieu!_" he gasped, seizing the hat; "eet _ees_ mine! See! I bring heem from France; zee _nom_ ees mine. _V'là!_ And I nevaire look in zee uzzer hat! I am _pair_fickly dumfound'!" And his astonishment was genuine. "Where is the other hat: the one I gave you?" I was in a great hurry. "I have heem here," reaching to the vacant chair at his side, while the French consul eyed us both with some suspicion. We _might_ be lunatics. Beausire handed me the benevolent old gentleman's hat, and the burden dropped from my shoulders. "Eet ees _such_ a meestake! I laugh; eh?" He shook with merriment. "I wear _two_ hats and not know zee meestake!" I thanked him and made off as gracefully as I could. The girl rose as she saw me returning. When I reached her side she was standing with her slender body inclined toward me. She stretched forth a hand and solemnly I gave her Mr. Chittenden's hat. I wondered vaguely if anybody was looking at us, and, if so, what he thought of us. The girl pulled the hat literally inside out in her eagerness; but her gloved fingers trembled so that the precious letter fluttered to the floor. We both stooped, but I was quicker. It was no attempt on my part to see the address; my act was one of common politeness. But I could not help seeing the name. It was my own! "Give it to me!" she cried breathlessly. I did so. I was not, at that particular moment, capable of doing anything else. I was too bewildered. My own name! She turned, hugging the hat, the legal documents and the letter, and hurried down the main stairs, I at her heels. "Tell the driver my address; I can return alone." "I can not permit that," I objected decidedly. "The driver is a stranger to us both. I insist on seeing you to the door; after that you may rest assured that I shall no longer inflict upon you my presence, odious as it doubtless is to you." As she was already in the cab and could not get out without aid, I climbed in beside her and called the street and number to the driver.