He had so lost himself in the dream, that it had become real, and he himself was the splendid adventurer, the maker of empires.

True, he had only a small band of ill-armed men, but better arms could be got, and by the time they reached the sea--who could tell! As he sat alone in the quiet dusk of his room at the Louis Quinze waiting for Parpon, there came a tap at his door.

It opened, the garcon mumbled something, and Madame Chalice entered slowly.
Her look had no particular sympathy, but there was a sort of friendliness in the rich colour of her face, in the brightness of her eyes.
"The avocat was to have accompanied me," she said; "but at the last I thought it better to come without him, because--" She paused.

"Yes, madame--because ?" he asked, offering her a chair.

He was dressed in simple black, as on that first day when he called at the Manor, and it set off the ivory paleness of his complexion, making his face delicate yet strong.
She looked round the room, almost casually, before she went on "Because what I have to say were better said to you alone--much better." "I am sure you are right," he answered, as though he trusted her judgment utterly; and truly there was always something boy-like in his attitude towards her.