she said abruptly. The voice was harsh, trembling, excited, yet distinguished.

“Suppose I am?” I answered wearily. How tired I was!

“I advise you not to go to Paris.”

I began to arouse my wits, and I became aware that the woman was speaking with a strong French accent. I searched her face, but she wore a thick veil, and in the gloom of the pier I could only make out that she had striking features, and was probably some forty years of age. I stared at her in silence.

“I advise you not to go to Paris,” she repeated.

“Who are you?”

“Never mind. Take my advice.”