dangerous one, as the Hollander laughingly suggested. Jack applied the
finishing touches at his studio, and artfully gave the canvas an
appearance of age. He was to receive the promised payment when he
delivered the painting at the Hotel Netherlands, and he had confidently
expected it. But, as has been seen, Martin Von Whele had gone home in
haste, leaving no letter or message. For the present there was no
likelihood of getting a cheque from him.

The brightness of the day aggravated Jack's disappointment as he walked
back to the little street just off the Boulevard St. Germain. He tried
to look cheerful as he mounted the stairs and threw the duplicate
Rembrandt into a corner of the studio, behind a stack of unfinished
sketches. Diane entered from the bedroom, ravishingly dressed for the
street in a costume that well set off her perfect figure. She was a
picture of beauty with her ivory complexion, her mass of dark brown
hair, and the wonderfully large and deep eyes that had been one of her
chief charms at the Folies Bergere.

"Good boy!" she cried. "You did not keep me waiting long. But you look
as glum as a bear. What is the matter?"

Jack explained briefly, in an appealing voice.

"I'm awfully sorry for your sake, dear," he added. "We are down to our
last twenty-franc piece, but in another fortnight--"

"Then you won't take me?"

"How can I? Don't be unreasonable."