This whole pretended visit may be a sham--she may even be the belle amie of this old curmudgeon." "I will watch all three of them! You shall know all!" murmured Justine, as she stole away, not without the kisses of her secret knight burning upon her lips.
"What a consummate actress!" mused Alan Hawke, when, for the first time, since Nadine Johnstone's arrival, a formal dinner party enlivened the dull monotony of the marble house.

The round table, set for five, gave Hugh Johnstone the strategic advantage of separating his secret enemy from his blushing daughter.

Hawke demurely paid his devoirs to Madame Justine Delande, with a finely studied inattention to either the guest of the evening or the beautiful girl who only murmured a few words when presented to her father's only visitor.

"I wonder if Justine, poor soul, will see the resemblance ?" It had been a triumph of art, Madame Berthe Louison's magnificent dinner toilette, those rich robes which effaced the opening-rose beauty of the slim girl in the simplicity of her rare Indian lawn frock.

Rich color and flowers and diamonds heightened the splendid loveliness of the woman who "looked like a queen in a play that night." Alas, for Justine Delande, she was so busied with her mute telegraphy to Alan Hawke that she never saw the startling family likeness of the two women so eagerly watched by Hugh Johnstone.