When they met again, he had his head bound up with swathes of linen. His
face was white with the loss of blood, and she gave a little cry of
alarm.

"You were badly hurt!"

"No; merely a surface cut. But please tell me what you know about me."

There was a quick change in her to a smiling gaiety. The man was human
again--he had at all events a very human curiosity.

"The name was from the hotel register, naturally," she answered. "But I
know also that you are on your way to Monte Carlo, which certainly can't
come from the register."

Rivière's face became coldly impassive as he waited for her to explain
further.

"You are a scientist," she continued slowly, watching him to note the
effect of her words. "You are to meet a lady for the first time at Monte
Carlo. Yet she knows you by your first name, John. You see that I know a
good deal about you."

She waited for him to question her further, but he remained silent, deep
in thought.

More than a little piqued that he would not question further, she gave
him abruptly the solution of the riddle.

"Two nights ago I travelled here from Paris in the same train with an