Pour la femme aux bijoux!"
La femme aux bijoux! The words fell upon my ears, causing me to ponder. Was she not herself "La femme aux bijoux"! How strangely appropriate was that merry chanson which I had so often heard in Paris, Brussels, and elsewhere.
Suddenly the train of my reflections was interrupted by the sound of a light footstep coming in my direction, and, peering eagerly forth, I discerned the figure of a rather smart-looking man advancing towards me.
I watched him come forward, tall and erect, into the light of the street-lamp a little to my left. He was well dressed in a smart suit of dark brown with well-creased trousers, and wore a soft Hungarian hat of dark-brown plush. On his hands were wash-leather gloves and he carried a gold-mounted stick.
As he came nearer I saw his face, and my heart gave a great leap. I stared again, not being able to believe my own eyes!
Was it, indeed, any wonder? How would you, my reader, have felt in similar circumstances? I ask, for the man who came past me, within a couple of feet from where I stood concealed, all unconscious of my presence, was no stranger.
It was Edward Craig—Edward Craig, risen from the dead!