Laverick, who was something of a connoisseur, saw nowhere any object which was not, of its sort, priceless,--French furniture of the best and choicest period, a statuette which made him, for a moment, almost forget the scene from which he had just arrived.

The air in the room seemed as though it had passed through a grove of lemon trees,--it was fresh and sweet yet curiously fragrant.

Laverick sank down into one of the luxurious blue-brocaded chairs, conscious for the first time that he was out of breath.

Then the door opened silently and there entered not the woman whom he had been expecting, but Mr.
Lassen.

Laverick rose to his feet half doubtfully.