That was supposed to be Madame Valade. Perhaps, after all, the others were right. CHAPTER XIII. A jolly night we made of it, as you may suppose; for four such monarchs don't often come together. You have made for yourself a unique place upon the stage. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. "I am so excessively fond of snuff. "Who are you?" inquired Mrs. Sheppard. She felt scrawny, lanky, badly dressed in a baggy black T-shirt, sweaty, not at all beautiful; not even pretty. "Your answer, gem'men?" demanded Sharples.
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