"Happy the star which guided me from the pitfall of wedded life! What
an escape! I must inform Monsieur le Marquis. He will certainly
relish this bit of scandal which all but happened at his own fireside.
Certainly I shall inform him. It will be like caviar to the appetite.
I shall dine before the effect wears off." The Chevalier put on his
hat and cloak, and took a final look in the Venetian mirror. "Don't
wait for me, lad; I shall be late. Perhaps to-night I shall learn her
name."

Breton smiled discreetly as his master left the room. Between a
Catharine of the millinery and a mysterious lady of fashion there was
no inconsiderable difference.




CHAPTER III

THE MUTILATED HAND

"Monsieur Paul?" cried the handsome widow of Monsieur Boisjoli,
stepping from behind the pastry counter.

"Yes, Mignon, it is I," said the Chevalier; "that is, what remains of
me."

"What happiness to see you again!" she exclaimed. She turned to a
waiter. "Charlot, bring Monsieur le Chevalier the pheasant pie, the
ragout of hare, and a bottle of chambertin from the bin of '36."