Seventeen years have passed since the occurrence of the events I have recorded, and never till yesterday have I seen or heard one word of Adèle de la Voix.
"Gwennie," said I to my dear little wife, on reaching my home in southern Michigan after a visit on business to Detroit, "you remember the heroine of my trip to Dressdorf castle, just before we were married?"
"Surely," said the wife.
"Well, I saw Adèle de la Voix yesterday."
"You didn't! When? Where?"
"At a store in Gratiot avenue. I was making a purchase, when a woman entered—old-looking, homely, shabby; but there was no mistaking those black eyes, nor the sniff of the left nostril. When she was gone, I made some inquiries about her, and here is her business card:
"Mme. Julienne, from Paris, reveals the past, the present, and the future. Can be consulted on all affairs of love, business, or law, and overcomes trouble of any kind. She brings together the separated, causes speedy marriages, and sells infallible love powders. Go and see for yourself. No humbug here.
"Rooms, etc."
"And what are you going to do?"
"Do? I don't know."