Until that moment I had remained there unnoticed in the excited crowd, for I had turned my back upon Madame Fournereau, lest she should recognize in me the woman whom Ernest had undoubtedly pointed out to her either in the Rooms, in Ciro’s, or elsewhere. But as I advanced to pass back to the adjoining room, where I considered there would be less risk of recognition, the long green curtains suddenly opened and Ernest Cameron stood before me. CHAPTER XIX PIECES TOGETHER THE PUZZLE.... I stepped back quickly, while he, with eyes fixed upon that fair-haired woman, who seemed the centre of a miniature court, failed to notice me. Upon his face was a dark, anxious look, an expression such as I had never seen there before. Perhaps he was jealous of the attentions shown by the dozen or so of men who were chatting and laughing with her. Her appearance was scarcely that of the keeper of an illicit gambling-house. One would have expected to find some fine, dashing, handsome woman in a striking gown and profuse display of jewelry. On the contrary, she was quietly dressed in a pretty, graceful gown of dove-gray cashmere, the bodice cut low and trimmed with silver passementerie, a frock which certainly well became her rather tame style of beauty. Her only ornament was a small half-moon of diamonds in her hair. Ernest, on entering, appeared to recognize the situation at a glance, and with his back turned to her stood watching the baccarat just as I had feigned to watch. Through the great mirror before him, however, he could note all her actions. She was laughing immoderately at some remark made by one of her companions, and I noticed how Ernest’s face went pale with suppressed anger. How haggard, how thin, how blanched, nervous, and ill he looked! Usually so smart in attire, his dress-clothes seemed to hang upon him, his cravat was carelessly tied, and in place of the diamond solitaire I had bought at Tiffany’s for him in the early days of our acquaintance,--which he had still worn when we met at Monte Carlo,--there was only a common, plain pearl stud, costing perhaps ten centimes. Alas! he had sadly changed. His was, indeed, the figure of a man haunted by the ever-present shadow of his crime. Curious, I thought, that he did not approach her, but the reason for this became plain ere long. I had returned to the adjoining room and was again watching the roulette, when she brushed past me on her way out into the corridor, from which led off several other rooms, and suddenly I heard his well-known voice utter her name in a hoarse whisper,-- “Julie!” She stopped, and recognizing him for the first time, gasped,-- “Ernest! You here?” “Yes,” he responded. “I told you that we should meet, and I have found you, you see. I must speak to you alone.” “Impossible,” she responded. “To-morrow.”