Just at that moment the wizen-faced man who had evinced such an extraordinary interest in myself was standing idly upon the kerb close by, and was undoubtedly watching him.
The quick eyes of the old collector of cigar-ends apparently understood the message in an instant, for with back bent he continued his active search, betraying no further interest in that table in the shadow. If he had really gone there in order to ascertain the nature of the message, he concealed his real purpose admirably. Probably he was used to being watched by police agents. I saw him hobble along from café to café, his shrewd, deep-set eyes peering from beneath his shaggy brows, always in search of the small pieces of tobacco discarded by smokers.
With him also disappeared the shabby little man whose interest I had unwittingly aroused, and I remained alone, still irresolute and wondering.
I had paid, and was just about to rise and go, when of a sudden a smart victoria pulled up in front of the "Grand Café," and from it stepped a well-dressed woman, wearing a smart hat and an elaborate cape of the latest mode. Without hesitation she walked to the table in question and seated herself. In the darkness I could not distinguish her face, but I saw that even before the waiter could attend to her she had examined the table and read the message there written.
Was it, I wondered, intended for her?
The waiter brought what she ordered, a "bock," that favourite beverage with both Parisians and Parisiennes. I watched her narrowly, and at once saw something to convince me that the cipher was intended for her eye. She dipped her finger in the beer, and when no one was looking, drew it across the writing.
Was she young, or old, I wondered? She was settling her cape and chiffons preparatory to rising and re-entering her carriage; I also rose and crossed the road. As I stepped upon the asphalt on the opposite side, she crossed to where her smart carriage stood, brushing past me as she did so.
As the light fell across her face there was revealed to me a countenance with which I was only too familiar.
She was the woman who had usurped my place in Ernest's heart; the woman whom I had seen in his company at Monte Carlo; the woman who had laughed at me in triumph across the roulette table, because she knew that she held him beneath the spell of her insipid beauty.