worked and toiled in the years before they came to New York and
success. The "other woman" came here, too, but for a very
different reason.

Nothing but business seemed to impress Millefleur, however. "Oh,
yes," he volunteered, "we have a fine class. Among my own patients
I have Hugh Dayton, the actor, you know, leading man in Blanche
Blaisdell's company. He is having his hair restored. Why, I gave
him a treatment this afternoon. If ever there is a crazy man, it
is he. I believe he would kill Mr. Collins for the way Blanche
Blaisdell treats him. They were engaged--but, oh, well," he gave a
very good imitation of a French shrug, "it is all over now.
Neither of them will get her, and I--I am ruined. Who will come to
the Novella now?"

Adjoining Millefleur's own room was the writing room from which
the poisoned envelope had been taken to Miss Blaisdell. Over the
little secretary was the sign, "No woman need be plain who will
visit the Novella," evidently the motto of the place. The hair-
dressing room was next to the little writing-room. There were
manicure rooms, steam-rooms, massage-rooms, rooms of all
descriptions, all bearing mute testimony to the fundamental
instinct, the feminine longing for personal beauty.

Though it was late when Kennedy had finished his investigation, he
insisted on going directly to his laboratory. There he pulled out
from a corner a sort of little square table on which was fixed a
powerful light such as might be used for a stereopticon.

"This is a simple little machine," he explained, as be pasted