nose, and a retreating forehead of some considerable dimensions.

Glynton did not remember seeing the man before, but having no doubt that he was a servant, he merely nodded familiarly and asked if the honourable mistress of the house was within. The little man replied slowly with a shake of the head. Then it was that Glynton, more closely scrutinising, saw that in his informant which he had previously failed to notice. The man, though obviously most carelessly attired, carried himself quite unlike a servant; and Glynton, when he set his wits to work, recognised this in an instant. Then who was he, and what was he doing in Kiku's house?

"She has been gone long?" asked Glynton, a shade of greater deference in his tone.

"I believe so, Excellency."

The Englishman duly noted the peculiar tone in which the word "Excellency" was expressed.

"She will return soon-perhaps?"
"Perhaps, Excellency; but I think not."
"Why?"

"Because to-night she dances for the great Count Idzumo."

"How do you know that?"

"Why should I not, Excellency? Is not Kiku the loveliest and most illustrious geisha in all Japan, and is not the honourable Count one of her most successful patrons ?"

A self-complacent smile, which excessively irritated Glynton, played about the man's mouth.

"You take great liberties with the reputation of your mistress," he said.

Gossip, my worthy fellow, is not wise in a servant."

"No, Excellency. I will think of it. And your Excellency's business?"

"Is with your mistress."

"But who shall I say has called?"
"Describe me. She will know."
"Yes, Excellency."

But the man's face was a perfect study, and though at the best of times Glynton was not a particularly keen observer, he did not fail to notice the singular

expression which played about the little Jap's beady eyes.

He flung the fellow half a yen, and turned on his heel. He was angry and he was disappointed, and, in spite of a prodigious effort to laugh, he felt a creeping sickness about the heart which caused him intense annoyance. Something suggested love, but he laughed loudly, and perhaps a trifle idiotically at the mere idea. Lord! how he had been fooled! The sweet singer, the mournful maiden with whom he had sympathised, who lived alone without love, without happiness, was the most notorious woman in all Tokio.

It was with a disgusted and desperate feeling that he went with his friend to the reception. A dozen times during his journey homewards he had hesitated to take the step, but as often his weakness to see her overcame his pride. It would be something to be able to laugh at his own folly.

It was late when he and Hallerton arrived, but they immediately went in search of the Count, and presently beheld him coming. towards them in close conversation with the French Minister. Hallerton advanced, a glib apology on his tongue, but Glynton followed in no easy mood. The little gentleman who was so deeply engaged in conversation with the Frenchman was the illustrious Count Idzumo- the person whom Glynton had seen at Kiku's house that morning.

The Count smiled meaningly as Hallerton introduced his friend, and immediately his hand went to his waistcoat pocket. But withdrawing it instantly, he said with a smile, "No; I will keep it as a souvenir.” Which cryptic utterance filled Hallerton's face with bewilderment.

When they were once more alone, he said to Glynton, "What did the Count mean?"

"Oh!" replied his friend, with an inscrutable smile, "the Count and I have met before."

"The devil!" muttered the diplomat. Glynton was like a man pulled two different ways. He was eager, anxious to see Kiku dance; and yet, with all his soul

he loathed the thought of it. Nevertheless, he followed the crowd into the great room which had been transformed into a temporary theatre, and patiently awaited. her turn; and when at length she came on and began to cut capers and grimace, a veritable painted geisha, his chin dropped forward and he could not look; but through an atmosphere of theatric affectation, through the sounding of the drum and the tinkling of the samisen, he heard a dirge-like wail, and saw the white, sad face of a woman.

When he looked up again, Kiku was making her exit to tumultuous applause. Men made strange jokes and laughed strange laughs. The atmosphere stifled him; he made his apologies and withdrew.

That night she was to dance again, but when, an hour or so after, Glynton and Hallerton met, the diplomat informed his friend that the pet geisha had suddenly been taken ill, and would appear no more that day. But plenty of entertainment was promised. Idzumo knew how to do the thing well. There were rumours of a magnificent exposition of the kina. It had been hoped that Kiku would lead....

Glynton heard no more, but that night found him not among the Count's guests. Angry with himself, and yet impelled onward by a force which he would have been powerless to analyse, even had he striven, he had wended his way to the little house on the hill, and with a shamed, hesitating manner, she came down the path to meet him.

"They told me you were ill," he said, "and so I came to see." She did not tell him that her illness was brought on by a glimpse of him with shame and confusion upon his face. "I did not know you were a geisha." She bowed her head without answering. "Idzumo's geisha," he added meaningly.

No, my lord," she cried, "not that! Idzumo, he is rich and great, but I hate him. Let my lord say the word and Idzumo employs me no more."

"Why should I? What is it to me?" "Ay, what is it to my lord?"

"Kiku, they tell strange tales of you." "It is so, my lord. I know. Kitsunetsuki-fox-woman-witch-I have heard them repeated. But those who do not know me tell the strangest tales of all."

The story of Nadzu, the War Minister's son, leapt to his lips. But the bowed figure and the penitent face were an irresistible appeal to silence. And, after all, what was it to him?

Her little hand slipped tremblingly into his.

"If we love, my lord, is it not enough?" "They say the love of the kitsune-tsuki is death."

"But my lord does not believe?"

"No," he said. "And Idzumo ?"

rho.o. by hana.

MISS CLAIRE ROMAINE SINGING ABOUT MARY THE HOUSEMAID IN "POT POURRI."

"Little Miss Nobody," is the only daughter of the late "Teddy" Solomon, the clever Jew who wrote " Billee Taylor." She made her début at the Gaiety six years ago, but scored no hit till she appeared in "The Maid of Athens," at the Opéra Comique, where she sang a silly song with the chorus, "Be careful." She makes a good boy-witness her call-boy Shrimp, in "In Town "-and is in great request for pantomime. She is married to Edgar

Photo. by Ellis and Walery. MDLLE. JANE MAY.