‘Dear me,’ broke in Madeline, ‘he must be a dreadful person. Suppose you point him out to me before we meet him, in case I get quite overcome.’ Serena gazed round the room. The crowd was so great he could not at first find the individual he sought, and with Madeline’s hand still upon his arm he moved a few more steps forward. Suddenly he paused again, gazed across the room, and Madeline, following the gaze with her eyes, beheld a form the first sight of which chilled her to the soul. The room was long and vast, and the further end of it curved off into a kind of alcove, which at this moment was filled with an admiring group, such as Du Maurier loves to draw--aesthetic ladies, for the most part tall and limp, and lean gentlemen, crowded together, who stood gazing in rapt admiration upon a figure who stood in their midst. It was upon this figure that Madeline’s eyes had fallen. In this wonderful creature, this new lion of the night, she recognised, with a sickening shock of surprise, none other than her old friend and tormentor, Belleisle! For a moment all power of speech deserted her, the room, the crowds, melted away--she stood as if alone, gazing upon the figure of a man in overwhelming fear--all the blood had deserted her cheeks, the hand which lay upon her companion’s arm was cold and death-like. She was recalled to herself by the sound of Serena’s voice. ‘Mrs. Forster,’ he said, ‘will you come on now--may I be permitted the honour of presenting you to my friend Gavrolles?’ But Madeline neither moved nor spoke. Her companion turned towards her, and noticed the ghastly hue of her face. ‘Good heavens!’ he exclaimed. ‘What has happened? My dear Mrs. Forster, let me trust you are not ill?’ Madeline clutched nervously at his arm. ‘Hush, not so loud,’ she whispered; then forcing a faint smile to her bloodless lips, she murmured, ‘I am not feeling well, Mr. Serena, but indeed there is no cause for alarm. The rooms are hot, you see, and I have grown a little faint. Pray let me sit for a moment, but take no further notice of this, I beseech you.’ Utterly bewildered as to what it all meant, but feeling instinctively that something wrong had happened, Serena did as he was requested. He led Madeline to an ottoman; she sank down on it with a sigh. ‘Now let me fetch you a glass of wine, or something to take away the faintness,’ he said anxiously; and Madeline bowed her head in silent acquiescence. The moment he had gone she turned her weary, bewildered eyes upon the gay crowd surrounding her, and gazed again with a sickening sense of shrinking fear towards the spot where the man had stood. Had her eyes deceived her, had it been some hideous vision conjured up to cast a black shadow upon the happiness which was hers at last? Madeline turned her eyes, hoping, half believing this might be so; but one look gave the death-blow to all her hopes, and made her terror more terrible than it had been before.