Lanyard smiled down at the woman, openly taking advantage of the illumination of a street lamp to study her.
In her day reputed the most beautiful demi-mondaine in Paris and the most dangerous, the old allure of her charms, by this tricky light at least, seemed unimpaired; while that she was still dangerous one had memories of events by no means stale to prove. And now what diablerie was she fostering behind that mask of fair, seductive flesh? what mischief had she in mind that required his co-operation?
An innate flair for anything in the nature of an intrigue stirred in its sleep, lifted its head, sniffed the wind with eager nostrils . . .
They came to Sixth avenue, where the hand under his arm gently led him south again, in the shadow of the Elevated.
"A long 'step' to this rendezvous of yours, Liane."
"Patience: we are nearly there. Or is it that your soul has grown so deeply ennuied even I—?"
"To the contrary, as you see, I am coming along quite peaceably. I have but one regret."
"And that?"
"It desolates me to know we must part so soon."
"This way, impostor." Guiding him across the Avenue, the woman held on toward Broadway. "What hour is it, do you know?"