“May I ask why?” inquired Cleeve. “Certainly! I have for long been interested in the scientific investigations of Dr. Dimitrius--he is a very mysterious person, and I fancied he might be trying some experiment on this lady, Miss May. She gave me no idea of such a thing--she was quite a normal, cheerful person,--still I had my suspicions and I was curious about it. She went with him and his mother to winter at Davos Platz--I was unable to follow them there, as I had a pressure of business--but I heard from a friend that Miss May was the ‘belle’ of the season. This rather surprised me, as she was not young enough to be a ‘belle’ unless”--here he paused, and uttered the next words with singular emphasis--“Dimitrius had made her so.” Cleeve uttered a sharp exclamation and then checked himself. “This is not an age of fairy tales,” he said curtly. “No--it is not, but it is an age of science, in which fairy tales are realised,” rejoined Farnese. “But pray excuse me!--I am detaining you--you could not by chance give me the address of this young lady you speak of?--the Miss Diana May you know?” “I do not consider myself entitled to do so,” answered Cleeve, coldly, “without her consent.” Farnese bowed. “I entirely understand! If you should see her, you will, perhaps, do me the kindness to mention my name and ask if she has ever heard it before?” “I will certainly do that,” agreed Cleeve,--whereupon they parted, Captain the Honourable with his mind in a giddy whirl, and his passions at fever heat. Come what would he must see Diana before she went to Paris! He must ask her about this Dimitrius,--for the story he had just heard seemed to hang together with her own fantastic “obsession!” But no!--ten thousand times no!--it was not, it could not be possible that the “old” Diana could thus have been miraculously transformed! Even Science must have its limits! He glanced at his watch. It was past nine o’clock,--very late for a call--yet he would risk it. Taking a cab, he was driven with all speed to Diana’s flat,--the servant who opened the door to him looked at him in surprise. “Miss May and Mrs. Beresford have gone to Paris,” she said. “They left this evening by the night boat train.” He retreated, baffled and inwardly furious. For one moment he was recklessly moved to follow them across Channel next morning--then he remembered, with rather an angry shock, that he was “the father of a family.” Convention stepped in and held up a warning finger.