"Very well," laughed the colonel; "I'm a fakir."
But the very ease with which he acknowledged this confirmed my suspicions that he had told only the plain truth. At this moment the butler appeared in the doorway, and we all arose.
"Madam desires me to announce that dinner is served."
The Scotch and the brandy saved the colonel any further embarrassment; we were all ravenously hungry. On our way to the drawing-room where we were to join the ladies, Fletcher began hoping for a clear, cold day for the morrow; and the colonel escaped.
It was my happiness to take in the hostess that night. She was toying with her wine-glass, when I observed that the bracelet on her beautiful arm had a curious bangle.
"I thought bangles passé," I said.
"This isn't a fad." She extended her arm or the bracelet (I don't know which) for my inspection.
"Why," I exclaimed breathlessly, "it is a miniature French louis!" A thousand fancies flooded my brain.
"Look," she said. She touched a spring, and the bangle opened, discovering the colonel's youthful face.
"How came you to select a louis for a bangle?" I asked.