“Will you kindly follow me? Monsieur the Directeur wishes to see you.” “You are expected, evidently,” said Lionel Belmont. The girls kept apart, as girls should in these crises between men. “I have a ticket for this box,” Cecil remarked to the official. “And I wish first to take possession of it.” “It is precisely that point which Monsieur the Directeur wishes to discuss with Monsieur,” rejoined the official, ineffably suave. He turned with a wonderful bow to the girls, and added with that politeness of which the French alone have the secret: “Perhaps, in the meantime, these ladies would like to see the view of the Avenue de l’Opéra from the balcony? The illuminations have begun, and the effect is certainly charming.” Cecil bit his lip. “Yes,” he said. “Belmont, take them.” So, while Lionel Belmont escorted the girls to the balcony, there to discuss the startling situation and to watch the Imperial party drive up the resplendent, fairy-like, and unique avenue, Cecil followed the official. He was guided along various passages and round unnumbered corners to the rear part of the colossal building. There, in a sumptuous bureau, the official introduced him to a still higher official, the Directeur, who had a decoration and a long, white moustache. “Monsieur,” said this latter, “I am desolated to have to inform you that the Minister of Fine Arts has withdrawn his original invitation for Box No. 74 to-night.” “I have received no intimation of the withdrawal,” Cecil replied. “No. Because the original invitation was not issued to you,” said the Directeur, excited and nervous. “The Minister of Fine Arts instructs me to inform you that his invitation to meet the President and their Imperial Majesties cannot be bought and sold.” “But is it not notorious that many such invitations have been bought and sold?” “It is, unfortunately, too notorious.” Here the Directeur looked at his watch and rang a bell impatiently. “Then why am I singled out?” The Directeur gazed blandly at Cecil. “The reason, perhaps, is best known to yourself,” said he, and he rang the bell again. “I appear to incommode you,” Cecil remarked. “Permit me to retire.” “Not at all, I assure you,” said the Directeur. “On the contrary. I am a little agitated on account of the non-arrival of Mademoiselle Malva.” A minor functionary entered. “She has come?” “No, Monsieur the Directeur.” “And it is nine-fifteen. _Sapristi!_” The functionary departed. “The invitation to Box No. 74,” proceeded the Directeur, commanding himself, “was sold for two thousand francs. Allow me to hand you notes for the amount, dear monsieur.” “But I paid twenty-five thousand,” said Cecil, smiling. “It is conceivable. But the Minister can only concern himself with the original figure. You refuse the notes?” “By no means,” said Cecil, accepting them. “But I have brought here to-night three guests, including two ladies. Imagine my position.”