"A circular," I thought, when the bell rang loudly, imperatively.

I went to the door. A square envelope lay upon the mat--a
curious envelope, pale amethyst in colour. Picking it up, I found
it to bear my name--written simply--

"Mr. Cavanagh."

Tearing it open I glanced at the contents. I threw open the door.
No one was visible upon the landing, but when I leaned over the
banister a white-clad figure was crossing the hall, below.

Without hesitation, hatless, I raced down the stairs. As I crossed
the dimly lighted hall and came out into the peaceful twilight of
the court, my elusive visitor glided under the archway opposite.

Just where the dark and narrow passage opened on to Fleet Street
I overtook her--a girl closely veiled and wrapped in a long coat
of white ermine.

"Madam," I said.

She turned affrightedly.

"Please do not detain me!" Her accent was puzzling, but pleasing.
She glanced apprehensively about her.

You have seen the moon through a mist? --and known it for what it
was in spite of its veiling? So, now, through the cloudy folds
of the veil, I saw the stranger's eyes, and knew them for the most