When the waiter brought us our coffee and cigarettes I reminded
Gerald of his promise. He rose from his seat, walked two or three
times up and down the room, and, sinking into an armchair, told me
the following story:-

'One evening,' he said, 'I was walking down Bond Street about five
o'clock. There was a terrific crush of carriages, and the traffic
was almost stopped. Close to the pavement was standing a little
yellow brougham, which, for some reason or other, attracted my
attention. As I passed by there looked out from it the face I
showed you this afternoon. It fascinated me immediately. All that
night I kept thinking of it, and all the next day. I wandered up
and down that wretched Row, peering into every carriage, and waiting
for the yellow brougham; but I could not find ma belle inconnue, and
at last I began to think she was merely a dream. About a week
afterwards I was dining with Madame de Rastail. Dinner was for
eight o'clock; but at half-past eight we were still waiting in the
drawing-room. Finally the servant threw open the door, and
announced Lady Alroy. It was the woman I had been looking for. She
came in very slowly, looking like a moonbeam in grey lace, and, to
my intense delight, I was asked to take her in to dinner. After we
had sat down, I remarked quite innocently, "I think I caught sight
of you in Bond Street some time ago, Lady Alroy." She grew very
pale, and said to me in a low voice, "Pray do not talk so loud; you
may be overheard." I felt miserable at having made such a bad
beginning, and plunged recklessly into the subject of the French
plays. She spoke very little, always in the same low musical voice,
and seemed as if she was afraid of some one listening. I fell
passionately, stupidly in love, and the indefinable atmosphere of
mystery that surrounded her excited my most ardent curiosity. When