‘When I was with the army in Schleswig-Holstein, the Hereditary Duke of Schlagberg-Schwangau lived in the same hotel, and there was an English girl stopping with him, disguised as a young officer. The Duke laid a wager that this girl would smoke more cigars than I could in the course of twelve hours. Bismarck, who dropped in by accident, held the stakes. We began at six p.m. and smoked on till four in the morning, when the girl gave in and had to be carried off to bed. I mention the fact because she was exactly the same height as the girl who acted to-night.’ ‘Impossible! Can’t be the same!’ said some one, feebly. ‘Can’t say, I’m sure. But it’s the same sort of face, and the girl, when you provided her with champagne, used to recite splendidly.’ ‘How long was this ago, Lagardère?’ asked Crieff, leaning over towards the other table. ‘About twelve years. The date is fixed in my memory, because it was the year I fought the duel with the Austrian general at Vienna.’ Crieff smiled. ‘And if,’ he said, ‘we put down Miss Vere’s age at four-and-twenty (I believe she’s scarcely twenty-two), she must have been, at the period you name, exactly twelve years old.’ A general laugh greeted this retort; but the journalist was not at all disconcerted. ‘You see these sort of women are all so much alike,’ he drawled. ‘I’ve seen the same type of face in the harem at Stamboul, among the nautch-dancers of India, and at the Jardin Mabille.’ Sutherland, who had with difficulty kept his temper during this little scene, now turned his dusky eyes full on Lagardère. ‘What do you mean by these sort of women?’ Lagardère shrugged his shoulders. ‘What I meant was simply this, sir. Just as we recognise in certain faces the Jewish physiognomy; just as we see in certain religious orders the ascetic or separatist experience; just as in another way we distinguish the blood of the racehorse, or the breed of the greyhound, so we recognise in a certain type of women the type of the hetairai. The type is so uniform on the stage that if we take up a whole album of theatrical beauties, we shall find the features of a family, the characteristics of twin sisters.’ ‘Am I to understand,’ said Sutherland, still retaining his self-possession, ‘that in Miss Vere you recognise the type of woman without virtue?’ ‘Certainly,’ drawled Lagardère. ‘Observe, I am making no personal accusation. If the lady is a friend of yours----’ Sutherland rose to his feet. ‘And if she is, Mr. Lagardère, since that is your name----’ ‘Why, then, I envy your luck, that’s all.’ returned Lagardère, with an ugly smile; and there was a general laugh. Sutherland’s hands came down, and they were clenched as if for a blow; but Crieff placed a warning hand upon his arm, and drew him away. ‘Don’t excite yourself/ he said. ‘It’s only Lagardère.’ ‘The man is insufferable.’ ‘Everybody knows that.’ ‘He deserves to be horsewhipped.’