“There’s one I am watchin’ on my own account,” said the detective.  “I’m comin’ up with him, and some day I’m goin’ to light on him.”  His eye gave a flash and then became as calm and cold as usual.  Presently he spoke again: 

“I don’t forgit nothin’—­’pears like I can’t do it.”  His voice had a new subtone in it, which somehow sent Keith’s memory back to the past.  “I don’t forgit a kindness, anyway,” he said, laying his hand for a second on Keith’s arm.  “Well, see you later, sir.”  He moved slowly on.  Keith was glad that patient enemy was not following him.

Keith’s inspection of the young girl had inflamed his interest.  It was an unusual face—­high-bred and fine.  Humor lurked about the corners of her mouth; but resolution also might be read there.  And Keith knew how those big, dark eyes could flash.  And she was manifestly having a good time all to herself.  She was dressed much more simply than any other woman he saw, in a plain muslin dress; but she made a charming picture as she stood against the wall, her dark eyes alight with interest.  Her brown hair was drawn back from a brow of snowy whiteness, and her little head was set on her shoulders in a way that recalled to Keith an old picture.  She would have had an air of distinction in any company.  Here she shone like a jewel.

Keith’s heart went out to her.  At sight of her his youth appeared to flood over him again.  Keith fancied that she looked weary, for every now and then she lifted her head and glanced about the rooms as though looking for some one.  A sense of protection swept over him.  He must meet her.  But how?  She did not appear to know any one.  Finally he determined on a bold expedient.  If he succeeded it would give him a chance to recover himself as nothing else could; if he failed he could but fail.  So he made his way over to her.  But it was with a beating heart.

“You look tired.  Won’t you let me get you a chair?” His voice sounded strange even to himself.

“No, thank you; I am not tired.”  She thanked him civilly enough, but scarcely looked at him.  “But I should like a glass of water.”

“It is the only liquid I believe I cannot get you,” said Keith.  “There are three places where water is scarce:  the desert, a ball-room, and the other place where Dives was.”

She drew herself up a little.

“But I will try,” he added, and went off.  On his return with a glass of water, she took it.

As she handed the glass back to him, she glanced at him, and he caught her eye.  Her head went up, and she flushed to the roots of her brown hair.

“Oh!—­I beg your pardon!  I—­I—­really—­I don’t—­Thank you very much.  I am very sorry.”  She turned away stiffly.

“Why?” said Keith, flushing in spite of himself.  “You have done me a favor in enabling me to wait on you.  May I introduce myself?  And then I will get some one to do it in person—­Mrs. Lancaster or Mrs. Wentworth.  They will vouch for me.”