"He's a wicked fellow," she said with a snatch of the breath. "A real downright wicked fellow, like Marr. That's what he is." Julian was amazed. "You don't know what you are saying," he answered. But she stuck to her guns with the animation of hysteria. "Don't I, though? Don't I? A girl that lives like me has to know, I tell you. Where should I be if I didn't? Tell me that, then. Why, there's men in the streets I wouldn't speak to; not for twenty pounds, I wouldn't. And he's one of them. Why didn't you come? Why ever did you let me be on my own with him? He's a devil." "Nonsense," Julian said brusquely. She laid her hand on his, and hers was trembling. "Well, then, why's he gone off all sudden like that?" "Only for a joke. Wait, I'll fetch him back." Cuckoo Bright looked frankly terrified at the idea. "No," she cried; "don't. I'm goin'. I'm off. Help me on with my cloak, dearie. I'm off." Julian saw that it was useless to argue with her. He put the cloak round her shoulders. As he did so he was standing behind her, with his face to the fireplace. The leaping flames sprang from the coals in the grate, and their light was reflected on the wall, near the door, but only, of course, to a certain height. Julian's eyes were attracted to these leaping flames on the wall, and he saw one suddenly detach itself from the shadows of its brethren, take definite shape and life, develop while he looked from shadow into substance, float up on the background of the wall higher and higher, reach the ceiling and melt away. As it faded the drawing-room door opened and Valentine reappeared. Miss Bright started violently, and caught at her cloak with both hands. Valentine came forward slowly. "You are not going already, surely," he said. "I must, I must," she ejaculated, already in movement towards the hall. "But I have just been to get you a box of sugar plums." He held a satin box in his hand and began to open it. But she hurried on with a nod. "Good-bye. Sorry, but I can't stop." She was in the hall and out of the flat in the twinkling of an eye, followed by Julian. Valentine remained in the drawing-room. "Lord, I am glad to be out of it," said the lady when she had gained the street and stood panting on the pavement. Julian hailed a hansom and put her into it. She gazed at him as if she was almost afraid to part from him. "You'll--you'll come and see me again," she said, wistfully. "Yes, I'll come," he answered. "For God's sake, don't bring him, dearie," she said, with an upward lift of her feathered head towards the block of mansions. Then she drove off into the darkness. CHAPTER IX THE LADY OF THE FEATHERS WASHES HER FACE