for the night I can go elsewhere, and I will call for you at nine in
the morning."

She smiled at me gratefully--she did not seem surprised at all.

"You have some baggage?" I asked.

"No, _monsieur_," she answered.

She _was_ French, then--Canadian-French, I had no doubt. I was hardly
surprised at her answer. I had ceased to be surprised at anything she
told me.

"To-morrow I shall show you where to make some purchases, then," I
said. "And now, _mademoiselle_, suppose we take a taxicab."

As her hand tightened upon my arm I saw a man standing on the west side
of Broadway and staring intently at us.

He was of a singular appearance. He wore a fur coat with a collar of
Persian lamb, and on his head was a black lambskin cap such as is worn
in colder climates, but it seldom seen in New York. He looked about
thirty years of age, he had an aspect decidedly foreign, and I imagined
that he was scowling at us malignantly.

I was not sure that this surmise was not due to an over-active
imagination, but I was determined to get away from the man's scrutiny,
so I called a taxicab and gave the driver my address.

"Go through some side streets and go fast," I said.