In an instant he felt the full force of his foolish heedlessness, but it was too late.

Had the mysterious fugitive recognized him?
Perhaps not; their eyes had not met, and his face had been turned away.
He varied his espionage by subterfuges, which his knowledge of the old town made easy.

He watched the door of the hotel, himself unseen, from the windows of a billiard saloon opposite, which he had frequented in former days.

Yet he was surprised the same afternoon to see her, from his coigne of vantage, reentering the hotel, where he was sure he had left her a few moments ago.

Had she gone out by some other exit,--or had she been disguised?
But on entering his room that evening he was confounded by an incident that seemed to him as convincing of her identity as it was audacious.