"Have you ever been to the Villa Fortunee before?" he asked presently, after a long and painful silence, when they had crossed the sunny square before the Prince's palace, and were strolling along the road which skirted the rock with the small blue bay to their left and the white houses of Monte Carlo gleaming beyond. "No," she answered. "I had no idea Mariette, `The Golden Hand,' lived here. She used always to live at the little bijou villa in the Rue Cotta at Nice." "The Golden Hand!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Why do you call her that?" "It is the name she has earned at the tables because of her extraordinary good fortune," Liane answered. "Her winnings at trente-et-quarante are said to have been greater perhaps than any other player during the past few years." At that moment the road turned sharply, almost at right angles, and Liane found herself before the great white house where lived the notorious gambler, the woman whose powdered, painted face every habitue of Monte Carlo knew so well, and whose luck was the envy of them all. She read the name of the villa upon the marble tablet, and for a moment hesitated and held back, fearing to meet face to face the woman she held in fear. But George had already entered the gateway and ascended the steps, and she felt impelled to follow, a few moments later taking a seat in the cool handsome salon where the flowers diffused a sweet subtle perfume, and the light was softly tempered by the closed sun-shutters. Liane and her lover sat facing each other, the silence being complete save for the swish of the sea as it broke ever and anon upon the brown rocks deep below. A moment later, however, there was a sound of the opening and shutting of doors, and with a frou-frou of silk there entered "The Golden Hand." She wore an elegant dress of pale mauve trimmed with velvet, and as she came forward into the room a smile of welcome played upon her lips, but George thought she looked older and more haggard than when he had visited her only two days before. Closing the door quietly behind her, she crossed almost noiselessly to where they were seated, and sinking upon a settee expressed pleasure at receiving their visit. "I was not exactly certain whether you would come, you know," she exclaimed, with a coquettish laugh. "I was afraid Liane would refuse." "You told me that you were her friend," he said. "And that was the entire truth," she answered.