ballerina! I sent one of the American chorus girls, a little minx for mischief. She ate his supper, and then ran away. I understand that he was furious. Only a few months more, Nell, and then I may come and go as I please. Come to Venice. Capricciosa. Hillard did not stir. Another labyrinth to this mystery! Capricciosa; Kitty Killigrew's unknown prima donna; and all he had to do was to take the morning train for Venice, and twenty-four hours later he would be prowling through the Campo Santa Maria Formosa. Though his mind was busy with a hundred thoughts, his head was still bent and his eyes riveted upon the page. Mrs. Sandford observed him curiously, even sadly. Why couldn't his fancy have been charmed by an every-day, sensible girl, and not by this whimsical, extraordinary woman who fooled diplomats, flaunted dukes, and kept a king at arm's length as a pastime? And yet--! "Capricciosa," he mused aloud. "That is not her name." "And I shall not tell it you." "But her given name? Just a straw; something to hold on; I'm a drowning man." Hillard's pleadings would have melted a heart of stone. "It is Hilda." "That is German." "She prefers it to Sonia." "Sonia Hilda; it begins well. May I keep this letter?" "Certainly not. With that _cara mia_? Give it to me." He did so. "Shall I seek her?" "This is my advice: don't think of her after to-night. If you ever see or recognize her, avoid her. It may sound theatrical, but she is the innocent cause of two deaths. These men sought her openly, too." "What has she done?" "She made a great, though common, mistake." "Political?" Her lips closed firmly, but a smile lurked in the corners. He sighed. "Don't be foolish. I am sorry I let you see the letter. I forgot that she told me her hiding-place." "Her hiding-place?" "Mr. Hillard, she is as far removed from your orbit as Mars' is from Jupiter's. Forget her." "My orbit is not limited. I shall seek her; when I find her I shall ... marry her." But her lips closed again. "Sphinx!" he murmured with reproach. "I like you too much, Mr. Hillard, to stand by and see you break your heart against a stone wall." "Don't you see, the deeper the mystery is the more powerful the attraction becomes?" The door to the lift opened and closed noisily, and Hillard turned negligently. A man sauntered through the room. The moment he came into the light Hillard's interest became lively enough: It was the handsome Italian with the scar. "Who is that man?" he whispered. "Only a few weeks ago I bumped into him on coming out of the club." A swift glance, then her eyes grew unfriendly, her shoulders rigid and repellent. "Do not attract his attention," she answered in a low tone. "Yes, I know him, and I do not wish him to see me." "Who is he?" he repeated. "A Venetian officer, and a profligate. I entertained him once, but I learned from him that I had been ill-advised."