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I had received a card for the private view of the Academy, and remembering Durham’s picture, determined to go there on the afternoon of the great day. I strolled through the rooms, which were crowded, so much so indeed that it was almost impossible to get a good view of the pictures; but by-and-by I caught a sight of Durham’s masterpiece. It occupied a place of honour on the line. Beyond doubt, therefore, his success was assured. I had taken a fancy to him, and was glad of this, and now pushed my way into the midst of a knot of admirers, who, arrested by the striking scene which the picture portrayed, and the rare grace and beauty of the central figure, were making audible and flattering remarks. Presently, just behind me, two voices, which I could not fail to recognize, fell on my ears. I started, and then remained motionless. The voices belonged to Lady Faulkner and to Mme. Koluchy. They were together, and were talking eagerly. They could not have seen me, for I heard Lady Faulkner’s voice, high and eager. The following words fell on my ears:

“I shall do it tomorrow or next day. My husband returns sooner than I thought, and there is no time to lose. You have arranged about the nurse, have you not?”

“Yes; you can confidently leave the matter in my hands,” was Madame’s reply.

“And I am safe? There is not the slightest danger of — ”

They were pushed on by the increasing crowd, and I could not catch the end of the last sentence, but I had heard enough. The pictures no longer attracted me. I made my way hurriedly from the room. As I descended the stairs my heart beat fast. What had Lady Faulkner to do with Mme. Koluchy? Were the words which unwittingly had fallen on my ears full of sinister meaning? Madame seldom attached herself to any one without a strong reason. Beyond doubt, the beautiful young Scotch woman was an acquaintance of more than ordinary standing. She was in trouble, and Madame was helping her. Once more I was certain that in a new and startling manner Madame was about to make a fresh move in her extraordinary game.

I went straight off to Dufrayer’s office, found him in, and told him what had occurred.

“Beyond doubt, Lady Faulkner’s manner was that of a woman in trouble,” I continued. “From her tone she knows Madame well. There was that in her voice which might dare anything, however desperate. What do you think of it, Dufrayer? Is Durham, by any possible chance in danger?”

“That is more than I can tell you,” replied Dufrayer. “Mme. Koluchy’s machinations are beyond my powers to cope with. But as you ask me, I should say that it is quite possible that there is some new witchery brewing in her cauldron. By the way, Head, I saw that you were attracted by Lady Faulkner when you met her at Durham’s studio.”

“Were not you?” I asked.

“To a certain extent, yes, but I was also repelled. I did not like her expression as she sat with the child in her arms.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can scarcely explain myself, but my belief is, that she has been subjected by Madame to a queer temptation. What, of course, it is impossible to guess. When you noticed the likeness between Durham’s child and her own, I saw a look in her eyes which told me that she was capable of almost any crime to achieve her object.”

“I hope you are mistaken,” I answered, rising as I spoke. “At least, Durham has made a great success with that picture, and he largely owes it to Lady Faulkner. I must call round to see him, in order to congratulate him.

I did so a few days later. I found the artist busy in his studio working at a portrait of a City magnate.

“Here you are, Head. I am delighted to welcome you,” he said, when I arrived. “Pray, take that chair. You will forgive me if I go on working? My big picture having sold so well, I am overpowered with orders. It has taken on; you have seen the reviews, have you not?”

“I have, and I also witnessed the crowds who collected round it on the opening day,” I replied. “It is a magnificent work of art, Durham. You will be one of our foremost historical