"Ah! she has led a strange life," sighed the handsome Frenchwoman. "I have seen her many times, but have seldom spoken much with her. I often met her father in the days of his success, but he for some reason avoided introducing me. Although the circle in which Erle Brooker moved was usually composed of thieves, adventuresses, and the scum of the gambling-hells, he held his daughter aloof from it all. He would never permit her to mix with any of his companions, appearing to entertain a curious suspicion towards even respectable folk, fearing lest she should become contaminated by the world's wickedness. Thus," she added, "Liane and her companion Nelly grew to be sweet and altogether ingenuous girls, who were everywhere respected and admired." There was a short pause, during which he pondered deeply over the facts his strange visitor had explained. The truth was out at last. Liane was the daughter of an adventurer. He recollected how well she had been dressed when he had met her on the terrace at Monte Carlo, and reflected that her father must be again winning. The reason why she had compelled him to leave her that afternoon, why she had always preserved such a reticence regarding her past life, was now entirely plain. She did not wish that he should know the truth. "You said that you called in Liane's interests," he observed, presently, glancing at her with earnestness. "How?" "What are her interests are yours; are they not?" she asked. "Certainly." "You love her?" He smiled at the abruptness of her question. She was leaning back, regarding him with her keen, dark eyes, and holding her cigarette daintily between her bejewelled fingers. "She has promised to become my wife," he answered. A strange look crossed her features. There was something of surprise mingled with anger; but in an instant she hid it beneath a calm, sphinx-like expression. "I fear she will never marry you," she said, with a sigh. "Why?" "Because of her engagement to the Prince d'Auzac." "I care nothing for that," he cried, in anger at mention of his rival's name. "We love each other, and will marry." "Such a course is impossible," she answered, in a deep impressive voice. "It would be far better if you returned to London--better for you both--for she cannot marry you." "Why?" he demanded. He suddenly recollected that from this mysterious woman who knew so much of their personal affairs he might obtain knowledge of the secret his well-beloved had refused to disclose. "Why cannot she abandon him, and marry the man she loves?" "There is a secret reason," his visitor replied. "She dare not." "Are you aware of the reason?" he demanded, quickly. "I can guess. If it is as I suspect, then marriage with you is entirely out of the question. She must marry Zertho." "Because she is in fear of him?" he hazarded. She shrugged her shoulders with that vivacity which only Frenchwomen possess, but no reply left her lips.