"Is madame in?" he asked of the maid who opened the door. "Just come in, sir." "Will you beg her to see me for a moment?" And she showed them into a small sitting-room and went noiselessly away. "Will you please to come to madame's room, sir?" And they were ushered into the cosy room where Mme Beteta had just sat down to supper before a blazing fire. Her wraps lay on the sofa where she had flung them on entering. She looked lazed and tired, all except her face, and her great dark eyes opened wide at sight of Kattie. Jim had indeed told her that the girl they were searching for was pretty, but this girl, with all that was working in her still in her face and her eyes, was very much more than pretty. "Mme Beteta, will you do something for me?" began Jim impulsively. "I have only been waiting the opportunity, my boy, as I told you this afternoon. What is it now--and who is your friend? Won't you sit down, my dear?" to Kattie. "You look very tired." Kattie sank into the proffered chair, and Jim stood behind it. "This is Kattie Rimmer, a friend of ours from Carne. She finds herself suddenly alone in London. If you will take care of her I would be so grateful to you." "Indeed I will, if she will stop with me for a time. You are much too good-looking, my dear, to be alone in this big place. I shall be glad to have something young and pretty about me. My dear old Manuela is worth her weight in gold, but, truly, she is no beauty. And when I go abroad, presently, you shall come with me there also, if you feel so inclined." Madame understood--partly, at all events, and possibly guessed wrongly at the rest. But there was no mistaking her kindliness. She saw that the girl was under the influence of some overpowering emotion, and she talked on for the sake of talking and to give her time. "Kattie dear, will you promise me to stop with madame?" asked Jim anxiously. For it was one thing to have got her there--and a great thing; but it might be quite another thing to get her to stop. "Must I, Jim?" And the great eyes, swimming with tears, snatched a hasty glance at him. "Yea, Kattie, you must. And, madame, I cannot thank you enough. Sometime, perhaps--if I come back alive----" And at that Kattie sprang up and flung her arms round his neck again, crying, "Oh, Jim! Jim!" And he kissed her gently and put her away, and she sank down into the chair, a convulsive heap of sobs. He mutely begged madame to follow him, and left the room. "It is terribly sad," he said to her, In the other room. "I met her near my quarters to-night. She had been waiting for me, and she says--she says"--he stumbled--"well, she says she came to London after me. And, you know, I never had a thought of her--poor little Kattie! And I didn't know what to do with her, and so I brought her to you." "You did quite right, my boy. For your sake--and, yes--for her own--I will do my best for her. She is a pretty little thing--much too pretty to go to waste in London."