What strange eyes they had! blacked all round, and so piercing and defiant; and how they reeked of some heavy Oriental perfume. As for their splendid gowns, it made Letty nervous to contemplate the fragile shoulder straps, that held the corsage from slipping into space. Mrs. Corbett wore a wonderful flame-coloured garment, touched with glimpses of gold tissue, and pale blue chiffon; a diamond bow sparkled in her dark hair, and a long chain of pearls dangled to her waist. Lady Slater affected a more massive style; lounging in a Bergére, with a cigarette between her lips and her knees crossed, she gave a generous exhibition of pink silk stocking, with black ‘clocks’ and a pair of fairly large gold shoes. There had been a good deal of chaff about Lady Slater’s stockings; it appeared that she had recently won a dozen pair, in a bet with Lord Robbie. Turning to Letty she explained: “The bet was about you, my dear! though I’m not going to tell you what it _was_,” and she gave a loud and disconcerting ‘Ha! ha! ha!’ “But of course you’ll tell _me_, Tatty,” began Mrs. Corbett. “Good Lord! what’s this?” and she sat erect. “Upon my word! Do you see?” They looked; a tall, bold, amazingly handsome woman had entered, accompanied by two men; and paused in dramatic prominence as if to challenge attention. The effect was arresting. This new arrival was ablaze with diamonds--an audacious nudity but partly concealed by ropes of pearls. Her dress was exactly similar to the one worn by Mrs. Corbett. “My hat!” exclaimed Lord Robbie. “Who is she?” whispered Letty. “Amora, the actress, the most notorious woman in Paris. I say, Lola,” turning to her with a grin, “here’s your _twin_!” At this moment, Amora, impersonation of wealth and wickedness, swept by, casting as she passed, a glance of withering scorn upon her duplicate; their eyes met with a shock, and blazed as two flames. “Tartare told me on her oath that mine was the exclusive model,” began Mrs. Corbett, a little breathlessly, as soon as she had recovered her composure. She still looked alarmingly furious as she added, “I paid her three thousand francs for this rag, and she has gone and made a copy for that devil!” In her excitement she had raised her voice--people were staring; as Blagdon and Sir Billy turned about, she paused, and muttered to herself in a manner that boded ill for Madame Tartare! Lady Slater now rose and beckoned to Hugo. “Come over to this settee,” she said; “there is just room for two little people--and have a flirtation with _me_.” Blagdon assented obediently, and as she seated herself she continued: “It was only an excuse to tell you that I think your little girl is just too sweet for anything!” He nodded with stolid complacency. “But she wants a lot of what we sporting folk call ‘handling.’ She’s a bit nervous at the post--and a shocking bad starter.” Again Blagdon nodded, but on this occasion without complacence.