advice to the Royal Artillery to burn the fearless renegade, should
he ever be captured. It was the Story of a nameless traitor!

But, the vague distrust of the curled darling of Fortune soon faded
away under Hawke's measured social leading. A silver wine cooler
stood behind their chairs, and the old yarn of a British officer
playing Olivier Pain became very misty under the subtle influence of
the Pommery Sec. Alan Hawke guarded the expected story of his own
wanderings, waiting craftily until Bacchus and Venus had sufficiently
mollified Anstruther.

He duplicated the champagne, knowing well the warming influence
of "t'other bottle." The Major of a shadowy rank had early learned
the graceful art of effacing himself, and on this occasion, it
stood greatly to his credit. Anstruther was now quite sure that the
graceful head of the beautiful neighbor swayed in an unconscious
recognition of his witty sallies. A true son of Mars--ardent,
headlong, and gallant as regarded le beau sexe--he talked brilliantly
and well, aiming his boomerang remarks at a woman whom he knew to
be young and graceful, and whose beauty he was gayly taking upon
trust; an old, old interlude, played many a time and oft.

"What is going on here in this beastly slow old town? Nothing
much for to-night, I fancy," said the aid-de-camp, wondering if a
promenade au clair de la lune or a carriage ride to Ferney would
be possible! He already had noted the purity of the French accent
of the fair unknown. No guttural Swiss patois there, but that crisp
elegance of tone which promised him a flirtation en vraie Parisienne.

"Only Philemon and Baucis, an antique opera, at the Grand Opera