She was evidently an
artist's model; and when they have hair and color like this girl's, the
pay is good. I found myself wondering why she was bored and why Carmen
had so suddenly lost its charms.
It was seven o'clock when I pushed aside my plate and paid my check. I
calculated that by hustling I could reach Blankshire either at ten or
ten-thirty. That would be early enough for my needs. And now to route
out a costumer. All I needed was a grey mask. I had in my apartments
a Capuchin's robe and cowl. I rose, lighting a cigarette.
The girl looked up from her coffee.
"Back to the dime-museum?"--banteringly.
"I have a few minutes to spare," said I.
"By the way, I forgot to ask you what card you drew."
"It was the ten of hearts."
"The ten of hearts?" Her amazement was not understandable.
"Yes, the ten of hearts; Cupid and all that."
She recovered her composure quickly.
"Then you will not blow up the post-office to-night?"
"No," I replied, "not to-night."
"You have really and truly aroused my curiosity. Tell me, what does
the ten of hearts mean to you?"
I gazed thoughtfully down at her. Had I truly mystified her? There
was some doubt in my mind.
"Frankly, I wish I might tell you.
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