be, had at once given instructions that, in consequence of a family bereavement, she was not at home to any callers.

And so the two ladies were connected by family ties? Well, perhaps they were, and perhaps they were nothow could she tell?-the concierge had responded. The family bereavement was very likely no bereavement at all; the servants had mentioned the orders transmitted to them, but they all believed that the sudden indisposition of Mdlle. Knollys was the sole "bereavement" which afflicted Madame Bertram. Bad news, most probably, from England-a death? A death!-but missives containing intelligence of that kind generally had a mourning border, and nothing with a mourning border had arrived through the post for either lady. Telegram? Well, but no telegrams had been delivered at the address for a week or a fortnight. Tenez!-the last telegram that ever came to Madame Bertram's address was prior to the arrival of Mdlle. Knollys. It was a message from the latter,-announcing her departure for Paris, had stated Madame Bertram's maid, when gossiping in the concierge's lodge the same afternoon. And, indeed, the young lady had arrived that evening with her own maid- -an Engleesh!

Ah-Miss Knollys had an English maid? What sort of a person-pleasant-like and sociable? Sociable! Ha! If she had a tongue in her head it must be only because it was the fashion to have one! Could not exchange a word with anybody as she stalked in and out of the house, and never even looked in the direction of the lodge. A pretty piece of assurance, she should think, for an ill-dressed awkward grenadier like that to take a place as lady's-maid, when she didn't know how to hang her own clothes on her angles! But who ever found an

Engleesh, mistress or maid, who had the slightest notion. of elegance in dress, until they learnt, like Madame Bertram, by residence in Paris? Yes; ladies'-maids like that -there were plenty of them, working in the beetrootfields, in France! And as to being "pleasant," she seemed about as pleasant as the dentists at the free hospital, down town. "But you can judge for yourself," added the concierge; "there she goes, out for a little walk before breakfast. Drôle de pays, votre Angleterre! a country where the women get up early in the morning to take walks in the cold, for the benefit of their health, as they pretend, when it's so much easier to remain in bed!" Mr. Toppin assured the virago whom he had bribed into this flow of language that the hygienic practice she alluded to was not by any means absurdly prevalent among his countrywomen.

The concierge had glanced through the window which commanded from her lodge a view of the lobby. From his own position, as he stood conversing with her, Toppin could not catch any glimpse of the derided "Engleesh." He heard the glass-door of the marble lobby opened and closed, however. Then, as Miss Knollys's maid stepped on to the stone pavement leading past the lodge-entrance to the main gateway of the building, he saw her, and was struck with astonishment.

The maid held an envelope in her hand, and, as she approached, it seemed that she was intending, on this occasion at any rate, to address herself for guidance to the inimical portress. At the lodge door she perceived Mr. Toppin. Her hesitation was quite momentary, and might easily have escaped notice. She resumed her course, and in another instant had passed through the archway into the Avenue Marceau.

"I do believe she had it in her mind to ask me a question," exclaimed the concierge "a question with regard to some errand, no doubt, on which she has been sent; a direction, perhaps, written on that envelope. Ah, she would have been well received! You would have seen how I should have received her! I should have said, 'Mademoiselle, I am the portress;' I should have said, 'I am the portress, mademoiselle—not the commissionaire of the next comer, nor the General Post-Office!' Aha!-she would have been well received. I think I know how to put people in their places! Airs like that! Would not anyone fancy she was the mistress? Except that the mistress is as gentle and unpretending, and refined, from what I have seen of her, as the best-born lady of the true high-world: whereas, this-that! That can't speak to honest persons in its own station, and gives itself airs because it has a complexion and a figure!"

Toppin gazed at the empty archway. The imperial shape had vanished, but-oh, poor Toppin!-it had crossed his path. On heedless ears fell the harsh monotone of his informant. He could still see a clear pale face, black hair and eyebrows, and large dark eyes that looked full at him for a moment-large eyes of the darkest blue.

"Airs like that! I think I'd show some taste in toilette before I went about posing for a princess. What a costume, and what a hat!"

Mr. Toppin remembered no detail whatever of the hat, and of the costume he remembered only that it fitted the wearer tightly, and was plain. One fleeting attitude, statuesque and unstudied, defined itself again before his view, as he stared blankly through the glass doors of the lodge; and he half thought he saw again,

as the imperial shape continued onwards to the archway, the self-conscious movement of the handsome woman who knows that she is watched admiringly. He had not observed any angles, he presently declared; nor had it occurred to him to guess at any.

What did the male sex know about the artifices of the toilette! It was always easy to deceive them—always -unless they happened to be man-milliners. But certainly monsieur had been impressed by Mdlle. Lydia—that was the new maid's name-what, not impressed? Oh, there could be no denying the fact; monsieur was undoubtedly impressed. Well, she had a figure and a complexion, but as for any taste, grace, or refinement of the wardrobe, why, the commonest little street girl of Paris, lazy, thoughtless, and slovenly, and loitering on her way to school to play at marbles with the telegraph boys, could choose her colours or put on a piece of imitation lace with more discernment than this professed Engleesh lady's-maid. Still, if the striding life-guard who had just gone out responded to the notion which monsieur had formed of feminine attractiveness, why did he not offer to escort her? This Mdlle. Lydia was his compatriot-pas? At all events, the concierge added, she herself really must now turn her attention to her regular duties.

The temptation to offer his assistance to his superb fellow-countrywoman, who, after all, if strange to Paris, might have been grateful for the aid, had already presented itself, in fact, to Mr. Toppin's mind. What restrained him was a sentiment rather unusual with this gentleman-an odd feeling of inferiority. If it had been the mistress who was masquerading in the maid's attire, the habitual gallantry of Mr. Toppin, when he found himself among his social equals, could not have been

more suddenly frozen. Just as well that he had shown her no civility, thought Toppin; it might have involved him in attentions which would have distracted him from

the inquiry. Ah, it would not do to allow his mind to be distracted; it would not do to let this chance of distinguishing himself professionally slip through his fingers! He meant to show Inspector Byde that there was one at least of the younger men who understood his business. Detective Toppin resumed his interrogation of the portress, and by that sagacious female was introduced in an off-hand way to one or two domestics of the establishment. The process necessitated a disbursement of the fee admitted in forensic circles under the designation of the "refresher." The coachman and the valet de chambre construed "refreshment" in a sense more literal. They adjourned with Mr. Toppin to the first turning on the left. Here they were welcomed with smiles by the tavernkeeper's wife, who called them by their Christian names. The tavern-keeper asked them how they felt after their libations of the previous night, and placed small glasses of a dark crimson fluid before them, without waiting for their order. Mr. Toppin lingered in the hope of snapping up some unconsidered trifle of the conversation. although they all talked freely upon the inevitable topic among domestics, "the masters and the mistresses," nothing rewarded his patience but the customary sarcasms of the servants' hall. He learnt as much about Mrs. Bertram as he could have wished to learn, and probably more than was authentic. He failed, however, to elicit any substantial information with respect to her visitor, Miss Knollys. The character of the majestic Mdlle. Lydia could not be expected to escape review from acrimonious fellow-servants. She was cold and

But