MADAME VIOLETTE was waiting in the middle of the room. She turned with a smile upon her face as Lorenzo Brayton entered. The velvet curtain before the dais was thrown back, and Brayton could see the crystal globe in its frame.
“It seems an age since I saw you last,” Madame Violette said.
Brayton put his hat down and advanced toward her. They were like two antagonists measuring each other. On her part, Madame Violette had determined to ascertain whether Madame Moonshine had spoken the truth, whether Brayton was a double-dealing scoundrel or an honest man worthy of a woman’s love.
Brayton, for his part, realized that the atmosphere was charged with danger. His illegal dealings had made him quick to read the human mind. He sensed, without knowing how he did it, that Madame Violette, for th
