"You think it possible," I asked, "that he is alive now?"

"It is quite possible," she answered, "but not very likely. He probably died with the slight effort he made in moving his arm. I am quite willing to go in and examine him, if you like, or would you prefer to wait until the doctor comes?"

"We will wait," I answered. "He cannot be more than a few minutes."

Almost as I spoke, I heard the dog-cart returning. I hurried downstairs and admitted the doctor. It was almost daybreak and very cold. A thin, grey mist hung over the park; a few stars were still visible. Eastwards, there was a faint break in the clouds.

"What's wrong?" he asked, as I closed the door behind him.

"Something very extraordinary, doctor," I answered, hurrying him upstairs. "Come and hear what the nurse has to say."

He looked at me in a puzzled manner, but I hurried him upstairs. The nurse met him on the landing. She whispered something in his ear, and they entered the bedchamber together. I remained outside.

In about ten minutes the door was thrown open, and the doctor appeared upon the threshold. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and there was a look upon his face which I had never seen there before. He had the appearance of a man who has been in touch with strange things.

"Some hot water," said he—"boiling, if possible. Don't ask me any questions, there's a good fellow!"

I had already aroused some of the servants, telling them that the nurse had been taken ill, and I was able to bring what he had asked for in a few minutes. But when I returned with it and tried the handle of the door, I found it locked. Rust opened it after I had knocked twice, and took the can from me.

"Go away, there's a good fellow," he begged. "I will come to you as soon as I can—as soon as there is anything to tell."

I obeyed him without demur. I went into my study, ordered some tea, and tried to read. It must have been an hour before the door was opened, and Rust appeared.

"Courage," he said, "I have some extraordinary news for you."

"I am quite prepared for it," I answered calmly.

"He is alive!"

I nodded.

"I judged as much."

"More than that! I believe he will recover!"

There was a short silence. I had never seen Rust so agitated.

"You don't seem to grasp quite all that this means," he continued. "For the first time in my life, I have signed a certificate of death for a living person!"

"You have signed the certificate?" I asked.

He nodded.

"The undertaker has it."

The maid entered just then with the tea. I ordered another cup for Rust, and when it had arrived, I made him sit down opposite to me.

"His was exactly the kind of illness," he remarked thoughtfully, "to lead to something of this sort. I am quite sure now, whatever Kauppmann's friend may say, that his disease was not a natural one. He has been suffering from some strange form of poisoning. It is the most interesting case I have ever come in contact with. There were certain symptoms—"

"Rust," I interrupted, "forgive me, but I don't want to hear about symptoms. I want to talk to you as man to man. We are old friends! You must listen carefully to what I have to say."

Rust's good-humored, weather-beaten, little face was almost pitiful.

"You're going to pitch into me, of course," he remarked. "Well, I suppose I deserve it. You may not believe it, but I can assure you that ninety-nine out of every hundred medical men would have signed the certificate in my case."

"I have no doubt of it," I answered. "That is not the matter I want to discuss with you at all. There is something more serious, terribly serious, behind all this. Frankly, if I did not know you so well, Rust, I should offer you the biggest fee you had ever received in your life, to leave the place this morning and be called to—Timbuctoo. As it is," I continued more slowly, "I am going to appeal to you as a sportsman! I am going to take you into my confidence as far as I dare. I want, if I can, to justify a very extraordinary request."

Rust took off his spectacles and laid them upon the table.

"The request being—" he asked.

"That you start for the holiday you were speaking of the other day," I said, "within twelve hours."

He glanced at me curiously. I think that he was beginning to wonder whether I might not be the next person to need medical advice.

"Go on," he said. "I am prepared to listen at any rate...."

He listened. And at 10.30 that morning, he left Saxby—for the South Coast.



CHAPTER XIX

AN AFFAIR OF STATE

My cousin met me at St. Pancras. I saw him before my own carriage had reached the platform, peering into the window of every compartment in his short-sighted way. He recognized me at last with a little wave of the hand.

"Glad to see you, Hardross! These your things? We'll have a hansom. Where are you staying?"

"At the club, if I can get a room," I answered. "I shall try there before I go to an hotel, at any rate."

"Come and have some lunch first," Sir Gilbert said firmly. "You can see about your room afterwards. Remember your appointment is at three o'clock."

I acquiesced, and got into a cab with my cousin. I was perfectly aware that he was almost consumed with curiosity. He scarcely waited until we were off before he began.

"Hardross!" he asked, "what's up?"

"Nothing particular," I answered lamely.

"Rubbish!" he declared, "you are the last man in the world I should have expected to see in town the second week in September! You haven't come for nothing, have you? And then this interview with Lord Polloch. What on earth can you have to say to the Prime Minister?"

"I'm afraid, Gilbert," I answered, "that I can't tell you—just yet. You see it isn't my own affair at all. It's—another man's secret."

My cousin was palpably disappointed.

"Well," he said, a little curtly, "whatever sort of a secret it is, it hasn't agreed with you very well. I never saw you look so seedy—and years older too! What on earth have you been doing with yourself?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I've had a cold," I said. "Got wet through shooting one day last week."

My cousin regarded me incredulously.

"A cold! You!" he remarked. "I like that! I don't believe you ever had such a thing in your life!"

I leaned forward in the cab to look at the placards of the afternoon papers.

"Any news in town?" I asked.

"None at all," Gilbert answered. "There's scarcely any one about. I'm off to Hamburg to-morrow myself."

"And Lord Polloch?" I asked.

"He's off to Scotland to-night for a fortnight's golf. Afterwards I believe he's going abroad. You must confess that your appearance here is a little extraordinary. If I hadn't been on particularly good terms with Polloch, I could not possibly have got you an interview. He's up to his eyes in work, and as keen as a schoolboy on getting away for his holiday."

"It's very good of you," I answered.

My cousin regarded me critically.

"You'll forgive my suggesting it, I'm sure, Hardross," he said, "but you have got something particular to say to him, I suppose? These fellows don't like being bothered about trifles. The responsibility is on my shoulders, you see."

"I have something quite important to say to him," I declared. "In all probability, he will give you a seat in the Cabinet for having arranged the meeting."

Gilbert abandoned the subject for the moment. A sense of humor was not amongst his characteristics, and I do not think that he approved altogether of my levity. But later on, as we sat at luncheon, he returned to it.

"Have you ever thought of Parliament, Hardross?" he asked.

I shook my head.

"One in the family," I murmured, "is sufficient."

"The diplomatic service," he remarked, "you are, of course, too old for."

"Naturally," I agreed; "as a matter of fact, I have no hankerings for what you would call a career."

"And yet—" he began.

"And yet," I interrupted, "I am anxious for an interview with the Prime Minister. I am afraid I cannot tell you very much, Gilbert, but I will tell you this. Some rather important information has come into my possession in a very curious fashion. I conceive it to be my duty to pass it on to the government of this country. Lord Polloch can decide whether or not it is of any real value. It is for this purpose that I am seeking this interview with him. I tell you this much in confidence. I cannot tell you more."

My cousin smiled in a somewhat superior manner.

"You have got a cheek," he said. "As though any information you could pick up would be worth bothering Polloch with!"

I glanced at the clock and leaned back in my chair.

"Well," I said, "in about a quarter of an hour his Lordship will have an opportunity of judging for himself. By the bye, Gilbert, do you mind keeping what I have told you entirely to yourself?"

"You haven't told me anything," he grunted.

"I have told you enough to get me into pretty considerable trouble," I remarked grimly. "Shall I see you later?"

"I shall wait till you return," he answered firmly. "I am rather anxious to hear how you get on with the chief."

"I am a little anxious about it myself," I admitted, as we went out into the hall.

I walked the short distance to Downing Street. The afternoon was brilliantly fine, and the pavements were thronged with foot-passengers. I passed down the club steps into what seemed to me to be a new world. I did not recognize myself or my kinship with my fellow-creatures. For the first time in my life, I was affected with forebodings. I scanned the faces of the passers-by. I had an uneasy suspicion all the time that I was watched. As I turned in to Downing Street, the feeling grew stronger. There were several loiterers in the roadway. I watched them suspiciously. The idea grew stronger within me that I should not be allowed to reach my destination. I found myself measuring the distance, almost counting the yards which separated me from that quiet, grey stone house, almost the last in the street. It was with a sense of immense relief that I pushed open the gate and found myself behind the high iron palings. A butler in sombre black opened the door, almost before my hand had left the bell. I was myself again immediately. My vague fears melted away. I handed in my card, and explained that I had an appointment with Lord Polloch. In less than five minutes I was ushered into his presence.

"I am very glad to see you, Mr. Courage," he said. "I understand that you have some information which you wish to give me. I have exactly twenty-five minutes to give you. Take that easy-chair and go ahead...."

In less than three-quarters of an hour, I was back in the club. I found my cousin almost alone in the smoking-room. He looked up with ill-suppressed eagerness as I entered.

"Well?"

I lit a cigarette and threw myself into an easy-chair.

"Quiet afternoon here?" I remarked.

"You saw Lord Polloch?"

I nodded.

"I was with him exactly twenty-five minutes," I answered.

"Well?" he repeated.

I called a waiter and ordered something to drink. I felt that I needed it.

"My dear Gilbert," I said, "I will not affect to misunderstand you! You want to know how Lord Polloch received me, what the nature of my business with him was, and its final result. That is so, isn't it?"

"To a certain extent, yes!" he admitted; "as I was responsible for the interview, I naturally feel some interest in it," he added stiffly.

"Lord Polloch was most civil," I assured him. "He thanked me very much for coming to see him. He hoped that I would call again immediately on his return from Scotland, and—I have no doubt that by this time he has forgotten all about me."

"Your information, after all, then," Gilbert exclaimed, "was not really important!"

"He did not appear to find it so," I admitted.

"I wonder," Gilbert said, looking at me curiously "what sort of a mare's nest you have got hold of. Rather out of your line, this sort of thing, isn't it?"

The walls of the club smoking-room seemed suddenly to break away. I was looking out into the great work where men and women faced the whirlwinds, and were torn away, struggling and fighting always, into the Juggernaut of destruction. I looked into the quiet corners where the cowards lurked, and I seemed to see my own empty place there.

"Oh! I don't know," I answered calmly. "We are all the slaves of opportunity. Lord Polloch very courteously, but with little apparent effort, has made me feel like a fool. Perhaps I am one! Perhaps Lord Polloch is too much of an Englishman. That remains to be discovered."

"What do you mean by 'too much of an Englishman'?" Gilbert asked.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Too much self-confidence, too little belief in the possibility of the unusual," I answered.

"Suppose you appoint me arbitrator," Gilbert suggested.

I shook my head.

"I cannot, Gilbert," I answered. "As I have said, the issue is between Lord Polloch and myself, and I hope to Heaven that Lord Polloch is in the right, or there will be trouble."

"You are extraordinarily mysterious," Gilbert remarked.

"I must seem so," I answered, "I cannot help it. Have a drink, Gilbert, and wish me God speed!"

"Are you off back to Medchestershire to-night?" Gilbert asked.

I shook my head.

"No! but I thought of running over to the States next week."

Gilbert laid down his cigar, and looked at me anxiously.

"Have you seen a doctor lately, Hardross?" he asked.

"Not necessary," I answered. "I'm as fit as I can be!"

"Then will you tell me," he asked, "why, with the shooting just on, and the hunting in full view, you are talking of going to America?"

"I've had a good many years of hunting and shooting and cricket and sport of all sorts, Gilbert," I answered. "Perhaps I'm not quite so keen as I was."

"If you are not going to America for sport," my cousin asked, "what are you going for?"

I rose to my feet.

"Gilbert," I said, "it's no use. Some day or other you will know all about it—perhaps very soon. But, for the present, I can tell you nothing. I've stumbled into a queer place, and I've got to get out of it somehow. Wish me good luck, old chap!" I added, holding out my hand; "and—if anything should happen to me abroad—look after the old place—it'll be yours, you know, every stick and stone."

Then I got away as soon as I could. Gilbert was by way of becoming incoherent, and, so far as I was concerned, there was nothing more to be said.



CHAPTER XX

TRAVELLING COMPANIONS

I locked the door of my state-room, and seated myself upon the edge of the lower bunk with a little sigh of relief. The slow pounding of the engines had commenced, the pulse of the great liner was beating, and through the port-hole I could see the docks, with their line of people, gliding past us. We were well out in the Mersey already.

"We're off, Guest!" I exclaimed, "and off safely, too, I think. Chuck that now, there's a good fellow."

Guest was engaged in emptying the contents of one of my bags. He turned slowly round and faced me, with a pair of my trousers upon his arm.

"I shall do nothing of the sort," he answered calmly. "I am here as your servant, Courage, and your servant I intend to remain. We can't hope to keep the thing up on the other side, if we are all the time drifting back to our old relations. I wish I could make you understand this."

I opened the port-hole as far as it would go, and lit a cigarette.

"That's all very well," I said; "but I don't see any need to keep the farce up in private, and I'm sure I can unpack my own things a thundering sight better than you can."

"Very likely," he answered, "but you certainly won't do it. Can't you understand that, unless we grow into our parts, they will never come naturally to us? Besides, we may be watched. You cannot tell."

"The door is locked," I remarked dryly.

"For the moment, no doubt, we're all right," Guest answered; "but you won't be able to lock it often upon the voyage. Remember that we are up against a system with a thousand eyes and a thousand ears. It's no good running risks. I am Peters, your man, and Peters I mean to be."

"Do you propose," I asked, "to have your meals in the servants' saloon?"

"Most certainly I do," was the curt answer. "I expect to make acquaintances there who will be most useful. Did you get the passengers' list?"

I drew it from my pocket. Guest came and looked over my shoulder. Half-way down the list he pointed to a name.

"Mr. de Valentin and valet!" he murmured. "That is our friend. I recognize the name. He has used it before! Now let us see."

Again his forefinger travelled down the list—again it paused.

"Mrs. Van Reinberg, and the Misses Van Reinberg! Ah!" he said, "that is the lady whose acquaintance you must contrive to make."

"One of the court?" I asked,

He nodded.

"There are others, of course, but I do not recognize their names. They will sort themselves up naturally enough. Now unlock that door, and go up on deck. The stewards will be in directly for orders."

I rose and stretched out my hand towards the door. Suddenly, from outside, an unexpected sound almost paralyzed me—the sharp, shrill yapping of a small dog!

I felt the color leave my cheeks. Guest looked at me in amazement.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked. "You're not frightened of a toy terrier, are you?"

I opened the door. Of course, my sudden fear had been absurd. I peered out into the passage, and a little exclamation broke from my lips. Sitting on his haunches just outside, his mouth open, his little, red tongue hanging out, was a small Japanese spaniel. There may have been thousands of others in the world, but that one I was very sure, from the first, that I recognized, and I was equally sure that he recognized me. I stared at him fascinated. His bead-like, black eyes blinked and blinked again; and his teeth, like a row of ivory needles, gleamed white from his red gums. He neither growled nor wagged his tail, but it seemed to me that the expression of his aged, puckered-up little face was the incarnation of malevolence. I pointed to him, and whispered hoarsely to Guest:

"Her dog!"

"Whose?" he asked sharply.

"Miss Van Hoyt's," I answered.

"Rubbish!" he declared. "There are hundreds of dogs like that."

I shook my head.

"Never another in the wide world," I said. "Look how the little brute is scowling at me!"

The bedroom steward came round the corner at that moment. I pointed to the dog.

"I always understood that dogs were not permitted in the state-rooms, steward," I remarked.

"They are not, sir," the man answered promptly. "The young lady to whom this one belongs has a special permission; but he is not allowed to be out alone. He must have run away."

There was the sound of rustling petticoats. A young woman in black came hurrying down the passage. She caught up the dog without a word, and hastened away.

"At what time would you like to be called, sir?" the man asked.

"Send me the bath-room steward, and I will let you know," I answered, stepping back into the state-room.

"He'll be round in a few minutes, sir," the man answered, and passed on.

Guest leaned towards me. His eyes were bright and alert, and his manner was perfectly composed. He was more used to such crises than I was. He asked no question; he waited for me to speak.

"It was her maid!" I exclaimed. "I was sure of the dog."

"Miss Van Hoyt's?"

"Yes!"

He caught up the passengers list. There was no such name there.

"If it is she," he said quietly, "she is here to watch you! It proves nothing else. I shall be seasick all the way over, and at New York we must part. Go to the purser's office and find out, Courage. There is no reason why you shouldn't. You are interested, of course?"

I nodded and left the state-room, but I had no need to visit the purser. I met her face to face coming out of the saloon. If appearances were in any way to be trusted, the meeting was as much a shock to her as to me. She was wearing a thick veil, which partially obscured her features, but I saw her stop short, and clutch at a pillar as though for support, as she recognized me. If the amazement in her tone was counterfeited, she was indeed an actress.

"You!" she exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

"America, I hope," I answered. "And you? I did not see your name on the passengers' list."

"I am going—home," she answered. "I made up my mind, at the last moment, to come on this steamer, to cross with my stepmother."

I did not like the way she said it. It was too apt—a little too mechanical. And yet I could not get it out of my head that her surprise was natural.

A little, fair woman, wearing a magnificent fur cloak, and with an eyeglass dangling at her bosom, suddenly bore down upon us.

"Adele!" she exclaimed, "have you seen my woman? I've forgotten the number of my state-room."

"It is opposite mine," Adele answered. "I can show it to you."

They passed on together. The fair, little lady had favored me with a very perfunctory and somewhat insolent glance; Adele herself left me without a word. I went into the saloon, took my place for dinner, and then sought the deck for some fresh air. I felt that I needed it.

A slight, drizzling rain was falling, but I took no notice of it. I walked backwards and forwards along the promenade deck, my pipe in my mouth, my hands clasped behind me. The appearance of Adele had been so utterly unexpected that I felt myself almost unnerved. For six days we should be living in the close intimacy which fellow passengers upon a steamer find it almost difficult to avoid. Our opportunities for conversation would be practically unlimited. If indeed Guest's suspicions as to the reason of her presence here were well founded, a single slip on my part might mean disaster. And yet, beneath it all, I knew quite well that her near presence was a delight to me! My blood was running more warmly, my heart was the lighter for the thought of her near presence. Danger might come of it, the success of our undertaking itself might be imperilled—yet I was glad. I leaned over the vessel's side, and gazed through the gathering twilight at the fast receding shores, with their maze of yellow lights. Life had changed for me during the last few weeks. The old, placid days of content were over; already I was in a new world, a world of bigger things, where the great game was being played, with the tense desperateness of those who gamble with life and death. I had not sought the change! Rather it had been forced upon me. I had no ambitions to gratify; the old life had pleased me very well. I had quitted it simply upon compulsion. And here I was with unfamiliar thoughts in my brain, groping my way along paths which were strange to me, face to face now with the greatest happening which Heaven or Hell can let loose upon a man. It was a queer trick this, which fortune had played me.

After all we are very human. The dressing bugle brought me back to the present, and I remembered that I was hungry. I descended into my state-room, and found all my things neatly laid out, and Guest sitting on the opposite bunk regarded them critically.

"You shouldn't have bothered about my clothes, Guest," I protested.

"Nonsense," he answered curtly. "I can't play the part without a few rehearsals. What about Miss Van Hoyt?"

"She is on board," I answered.

"You have spoken to her?"

"Yes!"

"Did she offer any explanations as to her presence?"

"She appeared to be surprised to see me," I answered. "She said that she was going home."

Guest nodded thoughtfully.

"Her stepmother is an American," he remarked. "I don't suppose you knew that?"

"I did not," I admitted. "I wish you would tell me all that you know of Miss Van Hoyt."

"No time now," he answered. "You will be late for dinner as it is. Don't seem too eager about it, but remember it is absolutely necessary that you get an introduction to Mrs. Van Reinberg."

I nodded.

"I'll do my best," I promised.



CHAPTER XXI

"FOR YOU!"

I found that a place had been allotted to me about half-way down the captain's table, on the right-hand side. My immediate neighbors were an Englishman, on his way to the States to buy some commodity in which he dealt, and a very old lady, quite deaf, in charge of a spinster daughter. Neither of them imposed upon me the necessity for conversation. I had, therefore, plenty of time to look around me, and take note of the people in whom I was interested.

They were all seated together, at a small table in the far corner of the saloon. At the head of that table was a man whom I had not yet seen, but whom I at once knew to be Mr. de Valentin. He was tall, rather sallow, with a pointed, black beard, and he continually wore an eyeglass, set in a horn rim, with a narrow, black ribbon. On his right was the woman to whom Adele had spoken upon the stairs. She wore a plain but elegant dinner-gown of some dark material. She was exquisitely coiffured, and obviously turned out by a perfectly trained maid. There were two girls at the table, whom I judged to be her daughters, and—Adele.

Adele was seated so that I could see only her profile. I noticed, however, that she seemed to be eating little, and to be taking but a very small part in the conversation. Once or twice she leaned back in her chair, and looked round the saloon as though in search of some one. On the last of these occasions our eyes met, and she smiled slightly. Mrs. Van Reinberg, who was sitting opposite to her, leaned forward and asked some question. I judged that it concerned me, for immediately afterwards that lady herself raised her gold eyeglass, and favored me with a somewhat deliberate stare. Then she leaned forward again and made some remark to Adele, the purport of which I could not guess.

Dinner lasted a long time, but I was all the while interested. I was facing Adele and her friends, so I could observe them all the time without being myself conspicuous. I was able to take note of the somewhat wearied graciousness of Mr. de Valentin, who seemed always to be struggling with a profound boredom; the almost feverish amiability of Mrs. Van Reinberg, and, in a lesser degree, her daughters; and the undoubted reserve with which Adele seemed to protect herself from Mr. de Valentin's attentions. When at last they rose and left the saloon, I quickly followed their example.

I put on an ulster, lit a cigar, and went up on deck. I found my chair on the sheltered side of the ship, and wrapping myself in a rug, prepared to spend a comfortable half-hour. But I had scarcely settled down before a little group of people came along the deck and halted close to me. A smooth-faced manservant, laden with a pile of magnificent rugs, struck a match and began to examine the labels on the chairs. Its flickering light was apparently sufficient for Adele to recognize my features.

"So you are going to join the fresh-air brigade, Mr. Courage," she remarked. "I think you are very wise. We found the music-room insufferable."

"I can assure you that the smoke-room is worse, Miss Van Hoyt," I answered, struggling to my feet. "Can I find your chair for you?"

"Thanks, the deck steward is bringing it," she answered. "Let me introduce you to my friends—Mrs. Van Reinberg—my stepmother, Miss Van Reinberg, Miss Sara Van Reinberg, Mr. de Valentin—Mr. Hardross Courage."

I bowed collectively. Mr. de Valentin greeted me stiffly, Mrs. Van Reinberg and the Misses Van Reinberg, with a cordiality which somewhat surprised me.

"I met your cousin, Sir Gilbert, in London, I think, Mr. Courage," she remarked. "He was kind enough to give us tea on the terrace at the House of Commons."

I bowed.

"Gilbert is rather fond of entertaining his friends there," I remarked. "It is the one form of frivolity which seems to appeal to him."

"He was very kind," she continued. "He introduced a number of interesting people to us. The Duke of Westlingham is a relation of yours, is he not?"

"My second cousin," I remarked.

"Is this your first visit to America?" she asked.

"I was once in Canada," I answered. "I have never been in the States."

She smiled at me a little curiously. All the time I felt somehow that she was taking very careful note of my answers.

"We say in my country, you know," she remarked, "that you Englishmen come to us for one of two things only—sport or a wife!"

"I hope to get some of the former, at any rate," I answered. "As for the latter!"

"Well?"

"I have always thought of myself as a bachelor," I said; "but one's good fortune comes sometimes when one least expects it."

I looked across at Adele, and Mrs. Van Reinberg followed the direction of my eyes. She laughed shrilly, but she did not seem displeased.

"If you Englishmen only made as good husbands as you do acquaintances," she said, "I should settle down in London with my girls and study matchmaking. I am afraid, though, that you have your drawbacks."

"Tell me what they are," I begged, "and I will do my best to prove myself an exception."

"You have too much spare time," she declared. "And you know what that leads to?"

"Mr. Courage has not," Adele interrupted. "He works really very hard indeed."

"Works!" Mrs. Van Reinberg repeated incredulously.

"At games!" Adele declared. "He plays in cricket matches that last three days long. I saw him once at Lord's, and I can assure you that it looked like very hard work indeed."

Mrs. Van Reinberg turned away with a laugh, and settled herself down into the little nest of rugs which her maid had prepared.

"You young people can walk about, if you like," she said. "I am going to be comfortable. My cigarette case, Annette, and electric lamp. I shall read for half an hour."

She dismissed us all. Adele and I moved away as though by common consent. Mr. de Valentin followed with the two other girls, though I had noticed that his first impulse had been to take possession of Adele. She avoided the others skilfully, however, and we strolled off to the farther end of the ship.

"Your stepmother," I remarked, "seems to be a very amiable person!"

"She can be anything she likes," Adele answered—"upon occasions."

We turned on to the weather side of the ship, which was almost deserted. Adele glanced behind. Mr. de Valentin and the two girls were still within a few feet of us.

"Do you mind walking on the lower deck?" she asked. "I want to talk to you, and I am sure that we shall be disturbed here."

"With pleasure!" I answered quickly. "I, too, have something to say to you."

We descended in silence to the promenade deck. Here we had the place almost to ourselves. Adele did not beat about the bush.

"Mr. Courage," she said, "tell me what you thought when you saw me on this steamer!"

She looked me full in the face. Her beautiful eyes were full of anxiety. There was about her manner a nervousness which I had never before noticed. Her cheeks were paler, and with these indications of emotion, something of the mystery which had seemed to me always to cling to her personality had departed. She was more natural—more lovable.

"I thought," I answered, "that it was part of the game!—that you were here to watch me. Isn't that the natural conclusion?"

"Mr. Courage," she said, "please look at me."

I faced her at once. Her eyes were fixed upon mine.

"I am not here to watch you," she said quietly. "I came because I have decided to go back to my home in America, and live there quietly for a time. Whatever share I had in the events which led to Leslie Guest's death, these things do not interest me any more. I have finished."

"I congratulate you," I answered.

"I cannot tell you anything about those events, or my connection with them," she went on, "but I want you to believe that I have no longer any association with those who planned them. I am not here to spy upon you. I am not in communication with any one to whom your actions are of any interest. Will you believe this?"

I hesitated for a moment. Her eyes held mine. It was not possible for me to disbelieve her.

"I am glad to hear this," I said seriously.

"You do not doubt me?"

"I cannot," I answered.

She drew a little sigh of relief.

"And now," she said, "about yourself. Be as frank with me as I have been with you. Are you really the legatee of Guest's secret?"

"You know that he told me certain things—before he died," I answered slowly.

"Yes! But what are you going to do with the knowledge? Are you going to be wise and let fate take its course, or are you going to meddle in affairs which you know nothing about? Don't do it, Mr. Courage!" she exclaimed, with a sudden catch in her voice. "Leslie Guest was a diplomatist and a schemer all his life, and you know the penalty he paid. You have not the training or the disposition for this sort of thing. You would be foredoomed to failure. Don't do it!"

I turned and looked at her. She was so much in earnest that her whole expression was transformed. The mysterious smile which was so often upon her lips, half supercilious, half mocking, was gone, and with it something of that elusiveness which had so often puzzled me! Her eyes met mine frankly and pleadingly, her fingers were upon my arm, and she was swaying a little towards me with the motion of the boat, so that I was tempted almost beyond measure to take her into my arms, and, with my lips upon hers, promise whatever she would have had me promise. It was only a moment of madness. The memory of other things came back to me.

"It is very good of you," I said slowly, "to warn me. I know that I am not made of the stuff that Guest was. It is possible that I may—"

"It is true, then," she interrupted breathlessly, "you are really meaning to go with his schemes?"

"You take too much for granted," I answered.

"Oh! don't let us misunderstand one another," she begged. "Tell me why you are on your way to America! Tell me why you are on this steamer, of all others."

"I am going to shoot—out West," I said, "and I want to know something of your wonderful country-people!"

She let her fingers slip from my arm.

"You will tell me no more than that," she murmured.

"I have nothing more to tell you," I answered.

Once more she leaned towards me. The wind was blowing around us, she came closer as though seeking for the shelter of my body. I could smell the crushed violets, which she was still wearing at her bosom; her eyes were soft and bright, her lips were slightly parted. I took her into my arms—she clung to me for a moment—one long, delicious moment.

"I have given it all up," she whispered, "for you! If I had told the truth, if I had told them that you knew, it would have meant death! You must forget, you must swear to forget."

I held her tightly.

"Dear Adele," I whispered, "you are a woman who understands. Life and death come to all of us, but a coward could never deserve your love—you could never stoop to care for a man who thought of his life before his honor."

"You are pledged!" she cried.

"I must do what I can," I answered.

She staggered away from me.

"God help us both!" she murmured.

I would have caught her to me again, but a dark figure was coming slowly down the deck. A little, yapping bark came from the deck at her feet. Nagaski was leaping up at his mistress. She stooped and picked him up. He showed me his teeth and snarled.

"You really must make friends with Nagaski, Mr. Courage," she remarked, turning away. "Come, we must go back to the others! My stepmother will think that I am lost."



CHAPTER XXII

"LOVED I NOT HONOR MORE"

I told Guest exactly what had passed between Adele and myself, leaving out only the personal element, at which I allowed him to guess. He was thoughtful for some time afterwards.

"What is to be the end of it between you and her?" he asked me presently. "Exactly on what terms do you stand at present?"

"Some day," I answered, "I shall marry her—or no other woman. As regards other matters, I believe that she is neutral."

"You do not think, then, that she will obstruct our plans?" he asked. "Of course, a word from her, and our journey to America can only end in failure."

"She will not speak it," I answered confidently. "I do not know, of course, how deeply she was involved in the schemes of those whom we may call our enemies, but I am perfectly certain that she has finished with them now."

Guest nodded.

"I hope so," he remarked shortly. "At any rate, it is one of the risks which we must take."

We said no more about the subject then, and I very soon perceived that the intimacy between Adele and myself was likely to be of the greatest use to us. For the next two days neither of us referred to those things which lay in the background. We walked and sat together, played shuffleboard, and in every way made the most of all those delightful opportunities of tete-a-tetes which a sea voyage affords. Mrs. Van Reinberg, for some reason or other, watched our intimacy with increasing satisfaction. Mr. de Valentin, on the other hand, though he concealed his feelings admirably, seemed to find it equally distasteful. Gradually the situation became clear to me. Mrs. Van Reinberg desired to reserve the whole interest of Mr. de Valentin for herself and her daughters; he, on the other hand, had shown signs of a partiality for Adele. The fates were certainly working for me.

On the third night out we were all together on deck after dinner. I was standing near Mrs. Van Reinberg, who had been exceedingly gracious to me.

"Tell me, Mr. Courage," she asked, "what are your plans when you land?"

"I thought of using some of my letters of introduction," I answered, "and going West after Christmas. I have been told that the country round Lenox and Pittsfield is very beautiful just now, and I shall stay, I expect, with a man I know fairly well, who lives up there—Plaskett White."

"Why, isn't that strange?" Mrs. Van Reinberg exclaimed. "The Plaskett Whites are our nearest neighbors. If you really are coming that way, you must stay with us for a week, or as long as you can manage it. We are going straight to Lenox."

"I shall be delighted," I answered heartily.

Mr. de Valentin dropped his eyeglass and polished it deliberately. His usually expressionless face was black with anger. Even the two girls looked a little surprised at their mother's invitation. I felt that the situation was a delicate one.

"I should not be able to intrude upon you for more than a day or two," I remarked, a little diffidently, "but if you will really put me up for that length of time, I shall look forward to my visit with a great deal of pleasure."

Mrs. Van Reinberg was looking across at Mr. de Valentin with a very determined expression on her pale, hard face. She was obviously a woman who was accustomed to have her own way, and meant to have it in this particular instance.

"It is settled, then, Mr. Courage," she declared. "Come whenever you like. We can always make room for you."

I bowed my gratitude, and, to relieve the situation, I took Adele away with me for a walk. We were scarcely out of hearing, before I heard Mr. de Valentin's cold but angry voice.

"My dear Madame, do you consider that invitation of yours a prudent one? ..."

We walked on the other side of the deck. Adele was silent for several moments. Then she turned towards me, and the old smile was upon her lips—the smile which had always half fascinated, half irritated me.

"So," she remarked, "I have become your unwilling ally."

"In what way?" I asked.

"I suppose," she said, "that an invitation to Lenox was necessary to your plans, wasn't it?"

"I had fairly obvious reasons for hoping for one," I answered, smiling.

She passed her arm through mine, and leaned a little towards me. It was at such moments that I found her so dangerously sweet.

"Ah!" she murmured, "I wish that that were the only reason!"

I pressed her arm to mine, but I said nothing. When I could avoid it, I preferred not to discuss those other matters. We walked to the ship's side, and leaned over to watch the phosphorus. Suddenly she whispered in my ear, her lips were so close to my cheek that I felt her warm breath.

"Jim," she said, "do you love me very much?"

I would have kissed the lips which dared to ask such a question, but she drew a little away. It was not that which she wanted—just then.

"Listen," she murmured, "but do not look at me. Watch that star there, sinking down towards the sea—there near the horizon. Now listen. When we land at New York, let us run away from everything, from everybody. We can go west to Mexico and beyond! There are beautiful countries there which I have always wanted to see. Let us lose ourselves for a year, two years—longer even. I will not let you be weary! Oh! I promise you that. I will give you myself and all my life. Think! We can only live once, and you and I have found what life is. Don't let us trifle with it. Jim, will you come?"

Soft though her voice was, there was passion quivering in every sentence. When I turned to look at her, her eyes and face seemed aflame with it. The color had streamed into her cheeks, she had drifted into my arms, and her clinging lips yielded unresistingly to mine.

"Oh! Jim," she murmured, "the rest isn't worth anything. Tell me that you will come."

I did not answer her at once, and she seemed content to lie where she was. My own senses were in a wild tumult of delight, but there was a pain in my heart. Presently she drew a little away. There was a new note in her tone—a note of half-alarmed surprise.

"Answer me, Jim! Oh! answer me please," she begged. "Don't let me think—that you mean to refuse."

I held her tightly in my arms. The memory of that moment might have to last me all my life.

"My dear heart," I whispered, "it would be Paradise! Some day we will do it. But in your heart, you know very well that you would love me no more if I forgot my honor and my duty—even for the love of you!"

"It is not your task," she pleaded. "Tell what you know, and leave it to others. You are too honest to play the spy. You will fail, and it will cost you your life."

"I shall not fail," I answered steadfastly, "and my life is insured in Heaven for the sake of the things I carry with me. Have faith in me, Adele. I swear that I will do my duty and live to realize—everything."

She shook her head sadly.

"There are others," she said, "who could do what you are doing. But for me there is no one else in the world."

"You shall not need any one else," I declared. "Mine is, after all, a simple task. You know that I went to see Lord Polloch in London."

"Well?"

"He would not believe me. Why should he? My story sounded wild enough, and I had no proofs. I only need to gather together a few of these loose ends, to weave something tangible out of them and show him the results, and my task is finished."

"Do you suppose," she asked quietly, "that you will be allowed to do that?"

"I must do my best,"' I answered. "It is inevitable. There will be more Mr. Stanleys and such like, no doubt. They may hinder me, but I think that, in the end, I shall pull through. And I promise you, dear, that when I have something definite to show, I shall have finished with the whole business. It is no more to my liking than yours."

"I cannot move you then," she murmured.

"You must not try," I answered.

She laughed a little unnaturally.

"I do not feel any longer," she said, "that you belong to me. There is something else which comes first."

"Without that something, dear," I answered, "I should not be worthy of your love."

"With men, there is always something else," she said sadly. "It is the woman only who realizes what love is, who puts it before body and soul and honor. A man cannot do that."

"No!" I answered softly, "a man cannot do that."

She turned away, and I walked by her side in silence. When she reached the companion-way, she stepped inside a little abruptly.

"I am going to my state-room," she said. "Good night!"

"You are not angry with me, Adele?" I asked anxiously.

"No! not that," she answered. "Of course, you are right. Only I have been a little mad, and I dreamed a beautiful dream. It is all impossible, of course; but I don't feel like bridge or my stepmother's questions. Say I am coming up again. It will save trouble!"

I played bridge later with Mrs. Van Reinberg for a partner. Mr. de Valentin's manner to me was coldly frigid, and a general air of restraint seemed to indicate that the evening had scarcely been a cheerful one. I myself did not feel much like contributing towards a more hilarious state of affairs. We had one rubber only, and then Mrs. Van Reinberg, who as a rule hated to go to bed before midnight, announced her intention of retiring. She accepted my escort to the door, and bade Mr. de Valentin a cold good-night.

"I hope you will understand, Mr. Courage," she said, as we shook hands, "that I shall expect you at Lenox. You won't disappoint us?"

"There isn't the faintest chance that I shall do so, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I answered. "I have the best of reasons for wishing to come."

She smiled at me encouragingly.

"May I guess at the attraction?" she asked.

"I fancy," I answered, "that it is fairly apparent. May I, by the way, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I continued, "ask you a question?"

"Certainly," she answered.

"It is rather a delicate matter to allude to," I said; "but your friend, Mr. de Valentin, seemed to find your invitation to me a matter for personal disapproval. I hope that I have not unwillingly been the cause of any unpleasantness?"

Mrs. Van Reinberg was a little embarrassed. She hesitated, and dropped her voice a little in answering me.

"Since you have mentioned it, Mr. Courage," she said, "I will treat you confidentially. Mr. de Valentin has shown a desire to become an admirer of my stepdaughter. For several reasons, I find it necessary to discourage his advances. In fact, between ourselves, Mr. de Valentin, although he is a person for whom I have a great respect and esteem, would be an altogether impossible suitor for Adele. I am sure he will realize that directly he thinks the matter over seriously; but you see he is a person who has been very much spoilt, and he annoyed me to-night very much. I do not care to have my invitations criticised by my other guests, whoever they may be. Now you understand the position, Mr. Courage."

"Perfectly," I answered. "I am exceedingly obliged to you for being so frank with me."

"And we shall expect you at Lenox?"

"Without fail!" I answered confidently.

She passed down the stairs, humming a tune to herself, followed a few steps behind by her maid. Her wonderfully arranged, fair hair was ablaze with diamonds, her gown was more suitable to a London drawing-room than the deck of a steamer. And yet she seemed neither over-jewelled nor over-dressed. She had all the marvellous "aplomb" of her countrywomen, who can transgress all laws of fashion or taste, and through sheer self-confidence remain correct.

I felt a touch upon my shoulder and turned around. It was Mr. de Valentin who stood there.

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Courage," he said, "but if you have nothing particular to do for a few minutes, will you smoke a cigarette with me?"

"With pleasure!" I answered. "I was just going into the smoke-room."

He stalked solemnly ahead, and I followed him along the corridor.



CHAPTER XXIII

THE PRETENDER

Mr. de Valentin led the way to a secluded corner of the smoke-room, and laid a well-filled cigarette case upon the table. He beckoned to the steward.

"You will take something?" he asked.

I ordered a whisky and soda and lit a cigarette. I had tasted nothing like them since I had left England. Mr. de Valentin leaned across the table towards me.

"Mr. Courage," he said, "I am going to ask you to accept a confidence from me. You are an English gentleman, and although I have not the honor to be myself an Englishman, my associations with your country have always been very close, and I am well aware that a special significance attaches itself to that term."

He paused and looked across at me somewhat anxiously. His speech was slow but very distinct. He had little accent, but I had known quite well that he was not an Englishman.

"I shall be very glad to hear anything that you have to say, Mr. de Valentin," I answered.

He beat with his forefinger upon the table for a few moments absently. I found myself studying him critically. His appearance was without doubt distinguished. His sallow face, his pointed black beard, his high, well-shaped nose, and almost brilliant eyes gave him the appearance of a Spaniard; but the scrupulous exactness of his plain dinner clothes, his well-manicured nails, and the ring upon his little finger, with its wonderful green stone, were all suggestive of the French aristocrat. His eyebrows were knit just now, as though with thought. Presently he looked up from the table and continued:

"If you will permit me," he said, "I should like to introduce myself. My name is not Mr. de Valentin. I am Victor Louis, Comte de Valentin, Marquis de St. Auteuil, Duc de Bordera and Escault, Prince of Normandy."

I nodded gravely.

"And according to some," I remarked in a low tone, "King of France!"

He looked at me in keen surprise. He was evidently taken aback.

"You knew me?" he exclaimed.

"I felt very sure," I answered, "that you were the person whom you have declared yourself to be. I have seen you twice in Paris, and you must remember that this is an age of illustrated papers and journalistic enterprise."

"You have not mentioned your recognition of me?" he asked quickly.

"Certainly not," I answered. "It was not my affair, and in your position I can conceive that there may be many reasons for your desiring to travel incognito."

He smiled a little wearily.

"Yet it would tax your ingenuity, I imagine," he continued, "to account for my travelling in company with Mrs. Van Reinberg and her daughters."

"It is not my affair," I answered. "We Englishmen are supposed to have learnt the secret of minding our own business."

"You Englishmen, certainly," he answered, "but not always your servants."

I looked at him a little puzzled. His words had seemed to possess some special significance.

"You will not, I am sure, take offence at what I am about to say, Mr. Courage," he continued; "but may I ask if you have confidence in the manservant who is now travelling with you?"

It was a shock, but I fancy that I remained unmoved.

"You mean my man Peters?" I inquired. "I can guarantee his honesty certainly."

"Can you also guarantee," Mr. de Valentin asked me, "that he is simply what he professes to be—a valet, and not, for instance, a spy?"

"My dear sir," I protested, "we scarcely know the meaning of that word in England. To say the least of it, such a suggestion would be wildly improbable."

He sighed.

"In France," he said, "one looks for spies everywhere. I myself have suffered painfully on more than one occasion from espionage. One grows suspicious, and, in this instance, I have grounds for my suspicions."

"May I know what they are?" I asked.

"I was about to tell you," Mr. de Valentin answered. "I have with me in my cabin certain papers, which are of great importance to me. I had occasion to look them through last night, and although none were missing, yet there was every indication of their having been tampered with. I questioned my servant, who is a very faithful fellow, and I found that the only person with whom he had made friends, and who had entered my cabin, was your man, Peters I think you called him."

Mr. de Valentin was watching me closely, and the test was a severe one. I was annoyed with Guest for having kept me in ignorance of what he had done.

"I do not see how your private papers could have been of the slightest use to Peters," I said; "but if you like to come down to my state-room you can question him yourself."

"That," he answered, "I will leave to you. I take it then that you have no suspicion that your servant is any other than he professes to be?"

"I am perfectly convinced that he is not," I declared.

Mr. de Valentin bowed.

"For the moment," he said, "we will quit the subject. I have another matter, equally delicate, which I should like to discuss with you."

"I am quite at your service," I assured him.

"You have a saying in English," he continued, "which, if I remember it rightly, says that necessity makes strange bedfellows. I myself am going into a strange country upon a strange errand. I do not consider myself a person of hyper-exclusive tastes, but I must confess that I do not find myself in sympathy with the country-people and friends of Mrs. Van Reinberg!"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Then why go amongst them?" I asked. "You are surely at liberty to do as you choose!"

Mr. de Valentin took up his case and chose another cigarette.

"In this instance," he said coldly, "I am not entirely my own master. There were powerful reasons why I should have taken this voyage to America, and there are reasons why I should have done so with Mrs. Van Reinberg. Which brings me, by the bye, to the second matter concerning which I wished to speak to you."

I accepted another of Mr. de Valentin's excellent cigarettes, and composed myself once more to listen.

"I am going to Lenox," he continued, "to meet there a few American friends, with whom I have certain affairs of importance to discuss. You, also, have been invited to Lenox. My request is that you defer your visit there until after my departure."

I raised my eyebrows at this. It seemed to me that Mr. de Valentin was going a little too far.

"May I inquire," I asked politely, "in what respect you find my presence there undesirable? We are not bound, I presume, to come much into contact with one another."

"You misunderstand me," Mr. de Valentin declared. "It is not a personal matter at all. My visit to Lenox has been arranged solely to discuss a certain matter with certain people. The presence of those who are not interested in it would be an embarrassment to all of us. Further, to recur to a matter which we have already spoken of, I cannot divest myself of certain suspicions concerning your servant."

I considered my reply for a moment or two.

"As regards the latter," I said after a pause, "I can not take you seriously. Besides, it is very unlikely that my servant would accompany me to Lenox. If my presence there would be an embarrassment, I really do not see why Mrs. Van Reinberg asked me."

"She did so thoughtlessly," Mr. de Valentin answered. "Her reasons were tolerably clear to me, perhaps to you. With regard to them, I have nothing to say, except that your visit could be paid just as well, say in a fortnight after we land."

"Unfortunately," I answered, "that would not suit me. To be frank with you, Miss Van Hoyt would have left."

"If I can arrange," Mr. de Valentin continued, with some eagerness, "that she should not have left!"

I hesitated for a moment.

"Mr. de Valentin," I said, "I cannot conceive what cause for embarrassment could arise from my presence in Lenox at the same time as yourself. I do not ask you to tell me your secrets; but, in the absence of some more valid reason for staying away, I shall certainly not break my present engagement."

There was a silence between us for several moments. Mr. de Valentin was fingering his cigarette case nervously.

"I am perhaps asking too much of a stranger, Mr. Courage," he said. "The matter is of the deepest importance to me, or I would not have troubled you. Supposing Miss Van Hoyt should herself fix the date of your visit, and engage to be there?"

"That," I answered, "would, of course, be sufficient for me."

Mr. de Valentin rose from his seat.

"We will leave it like that then," he said. "I must apologize, Mr. Courage, for having troubled you with my private affairs, and wish you good-night!"

We separated a few moments later, and I went down to my state-room. I found Guest busy writing in a pocket-book, seated on the edge of his bunk. I told him of my conversation with Mr. de Valentin.

"I knew it was risky," he remarked when I had finished, "but it was an opportunity which I dared not miss."

"You might have told me about it," I protested. "I was altogether unprepared."

"The less you know," he answered, "the better. If you like, I will show you tracings of some letters which I discovered in Mr. de Valentin's portfolio. They were quite worth the journey to America, apart from anything else. Personally, I should advise you not to see them until our return to England."

"Very well," I answered. "Don't show them to me. But I shouldn't try it again. Mr. de Valentin is on his guard."

Guest smiled a little wearily.

"I am not likely to make such a mistake as that," he answered. "Besides, I have been through all his papers. His secrets are ours now, only we must know what is decided upon at Lenox. Then we can return to England, and the first part of our task will be done!"



CHAPTER XXIV

A PRACTICAL WOMAN

Mrs. Van Reinberg on the steamer was a somewhat formidable person; Mrs. Van Reinberg in her own house was despotism personified. Her word was law, her rule was absolute. Consequently, when she swept out on to the sunny piazza, where a little party of us were busy discussing our plans for the day, we all turned towards her expectantly. We might propose, but Mrs. Van Reinberg would surely dispose. We waited to hear what she might have to say.

"I want to talk to Mr. Courage," she declared. "All the rest of you go away!"

They obeyed her at once. We were alone in less than a minute. Mrs. Van Reinberg established herself in a low wicker chair, and I took up my position within a few feet of her, leaning against the wooden rail.

"I am entirely at your service, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I declared. "What is it to be about—Adele?"

"No! not Adele," she answered. "I leave you and Adele to arrange your own affairs. You can manage that without any interference from me."

I smiled and waited for her to proceed. She was evidently thinking out her way. Her brows were knitted, her eyes were fixed upon a distant spot in the forest landscape of orange and red. Yet I was very sure that at that moment, the wonderful autumnal tints, which she seemed to be so steadily regarding, held no place in her thoughts.

"Mr. Courage," she said at last, "you are a sensible man, and a man of honor. I should like to talk to you confidentially."

I murmured something about being flattered, but I do not think that she heard me.

"I should like," she continued, "to have you understand certain things which are in my mind just now, and which concern also—Mr. de Valentin."

I nodded. The Prince's identity was an open secret, but his incognito was jealously observed.

"I wonder," she said slowly, looking for the first time directly towards me, "whether you have ever seriously considered the question of the American woman—such as myself, for instance!"

I was a little puzzled, and no doubt I looked it. Mrs. Van Reinberg proceeded calmly. It was made clear to me that, for the present, at any rate, my role was to be simply that of listener.

"My own case," she said, "is typical. At least I suppose so! I speak for myself; and there are others in the house, at the present moment, who profess to feel as I do, and suffer—as I have done. In this country, we are taught that wealth is power. We, or rather our husbands, acquire or inherit it; afterwards we set ourselves to test the truth of that little maxim. We begin at home. In about three years, more or less, we reach our limitations. Then it begins to dawn upon us that, whatever else America is good for, it's no place for a woman with ambitions. We're on the top too soon, and when we're there it doesn't amount to anything."

"Which accounts," I remarked, "for the invasion of Europe!"

Mrs. Van Reinberg leaned her fair, little head upon her white be-ringed fingers, and looked steadily at me. I had never for a moment under-estimated her, but she had probably never so much impressed me. There was something Napoleonic about this slow unfolding of her carefully thought-out plans.

"Naturally," she answered. "What, however, so few of us are able to realize is our utter and miserable failure in what you are pleased to call that invasion."

"Failure!" I repeated incredulously. "I do not understand that. One hears everywhere of the social triumphs of the American woman."

Mrs. Van Reinberg's eyes shone straight into mine. Her face expressed the most unmitigated contempt.

"Social triumphs!" she repeated scornfully. "What clap-trap! I tell you that a season in London or Paris, much more Vienna, is enough to drive a real American woman crazy. Success, indeed! What does it amount to?"

She paused for a moment to take breath. I realized then that the woman whom I had known was something of a fraud, a puppet hung out with the rags of a European manner, according to the study and observation of the shrewd, little lady who pulled the strings. It was Mrs. Van Reinberg of London and Paris whom I had met upon the steamer; it was Mrs. Van Reinberg of New York who was talking to me now, and she was speaking in her own language.

"Look here, Mr. Courage," she said, leaning towards me with her elbows upon her knees, and nothing left of that elegant pose which she had at first assumed. "I suppose I've got my full share of the American spirit, and I tell you I'm a bad hand at taking a back seat anywhere, or even a front one on sufferance. And yet, wherever we go in Europe, that's what we've got to put up with! You think we're mad on titles over here! We aren't, but we are keen on what a title brings over your side. Take your Debrett—there are I don't know how many baronets and lords and marquises and earls, and all the rest of it. Do you realize that whatever public place I'm in, or even at a friend's dinner-party, the homely, stupid wives of those men have got to go in before me, and if they don't—why I know all the time it's a matter of courtesy? That's what makes me mad! Don't you dare to smile at me now. I'm in deadly earnest. In this country, so far as society goes, I'm at the top. You may say it doesn't amount to much, and you're right. But it makes it all the worse when I'm in Europe, and see the sort of women I have to give place to. Say, don't you sit there, Mr. Courage, and look at me as though I were a woman with some cranky grievance to talk about. It's got beyond that, let me tell you!"

"I can assure you, Mrs. Van Reinberg—" I began.

"Now listen here, Mr. Courage," she interrupted. "I'm not the sort of woman to complain at what I don't try to alter. What's the good of having a husband whose nod is supposed to shake the money markets of the world, if you don't make use of him?"

I nodded sagely.

"You are quite right," I said. "Money, after all, is the greatest power in the world to-day. Money will buy anything!"

"I guess so, if it's properly spent," Mrs. Van Reinberg agreed. "Only very few of my country-people have any idea how to use it to get what they want. They go over the other side and hire great houses, and bribe your great ladies to call themselves their friends, and bribe your young men with wonderful entertainments to come to their houses. They spend, spend, spend, and think they are getting value for their money. Idiots! The great lady whom they are proud to entertain one night is as likely as not to cut them the next. Half the people who go to their parties go out of curiosity, and half to meet their own friends. Not one to see them! Not one because it does them the slightest good to be seen there. They are there in the midst of it all, and that is all you can say. Their motto should be 'on sufferance.' That's what I call going to work the wrong way."

"You have," I suggested, "some other scheme?"

She drew her chair a little closer to mine, and looked around cautiously.

"I have," she admitted. "That is what we are all here for—to discuss it and make our final plans."

"And Prince Victor?" I murmured.

"Precisely! He is in it, of course. I may as well tell you that he's dead against my making a confidant of you; but I've a sort of fancy to hear what you might have to say about it. You see I'm a practical woman, and though I've thought this scheme out myself, and I believe in it, there are times when it seems to me a trifle airy. Now you're a kind of level-headed person, and living over there, your point of view would be interesting."

"I should be glad to hear anything you might have to tell me, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I said slowly; "but you must please remember that I am an Englishman."

"Oh! we don't want to hurt your old country," she declared. "I consider that for all the talk about kinship, and all that sort of thing, she treats us—I mean women like myself—disgracefully. But that's neither here nor there. I've finished with England for the present. We're going to play a greater game than that!"

Mrs. Van Reinberg had dropped her voice a little. There was a somewhat uncomfortable pause. I could see that, even at the last moment, she realized that, in telling me these things, she was guilty of what might well turn out to be a colossal indiscretion. I myself was almost in a worse dilemma. If I accepted her confidence, I was almost, if not quite, bound in honor to respect it. If, as I suspected, it fitted in with the great scheme, if it indeed formed ever so small a part of these impending happenings in which Guest so firmly believed, what measure of respect were we likely to pay to it? None at all! If I stopped her, I should be guilty, from Guest's point of view, of incredible folly; if I let her go on, it must be with the consciousness that I was accepting her confidences under wholly false pretences. It was a big problem for a man like myself, new to the complexities of life. I could only think of Guest's words: "Conscience! For Heaven's sake, man, lock it up until we have done our duty."

I leaned against the wooden rail of the piazza, looking across the grounds. Within a dozen yards or so of us, several of Mrs. Van Reinberg's guests, with a collection of golf sticks, were clambering into a huge automobile. Beyond the pleasure gardens was a range of forest-covered hills, yellow and gold now with the glory of the changing foliage. In the valley was a small steeplechase course, towards which several people were riding. The horse which had been saddled for me was still being led about a little way down the avenue. With the exception that there was no shooting party, it was very much like the usual sort of gathering at an English country house. And yet it all seemed wholly unreal to me! I felt a strong inclination—perhaps a little hysterical—to burst out laughing. This was surely a gigantic joke, planned against the proverbial lack of humor of my countrymen! I was not expected to take it seriously! And yet, in a moment, I remembered certain established facts, of which these things were but the natural sequel. I remembered, too, a certain air of seriousness, and a disposition towards confidential talk, manifested among the older members of the party. Mrs. Van Reinberg's suppressed but earnest voice again broke the silence. She called me back to her side.

"Mr. Courage," she said, "you are going to marry Adele?"

"I hope so," I answered confidently, glancing away to where she stood talking to Mr. de Valentin on the piazza steps.

"I shall treat you then," she declared, "as one of the family. To-night, after dinner, we are going to hold the meeting for which this houseful of people was really brought together. I invite you to come to it. Afterwards you will understand everything! Now I must hurry off, and so must you! Your horse is getting the fidgets."

She swept off down the piazza. Mr. de Valentin came forward eagerly to meet her. I saw his face darken as she whispered in his ear.



CHAPTER XXV

A CABLE FROM EUROPE

Dinner that night was a somewhat oppressive meal. Several new guests had arrived, some of whom bore names which were well known to me. There was a sense of some hidden excitement, which formed an uneasy background to the spasmodic general conversation. The men especially seemed uncomfortable and ill at ease.

"Poor father," Adele whispered to me, "he would give a good many of his dollars not to be in this."

I glanced across at our host, who had come down from New York specially in his magnificent private car, which was now awaiting his return on a siding of the little station. He was a hard-faced, elderly man, with a shrewd mouth and keen eyes, sparely built, yet a man you would be inclined to glance at twice in any assemblage. He wore a most unconventional evening suit, the waistcoat cut very high, and a plain black tie. Two footmen stood behind his chair, and a large florid lady, wearing a crown of diamonds, and with a European reputation for opulence, sat on his right hand. Neither seemed to embarrass him in the least, for the simple reason that he took no notice of them. He drank water, ate sparingly, and talked Wall Street with a man a few places down the table on the left. His speech was crisp and correct, but his intonation more distinctly American than any of his guests'. On the whole, I think he interested me more than any one else there.

"By the bye," I remarked, "I ought to be having a little private conversation with your father this time, oughtn't I?"

She smiled at me faintly.

"It is usual," she assented. "I don't think you will find that he will have much to say. I am my own mistress, and he is too wise to interfere in such a matter. But—"

"Well?"

"You are a very confident person," she murmured.

"I am confident of one thing, at any rate," I answered, "and that is that you are going to be my wife!"

She rebuked me with a glance, which was also wonderfully sweet.

"Some one will hear you," she whispered.

I shook my head.

"Every one is too busy talking about the mysteries to come," I declared.

She shrugged her dazzlingly white shoulders.

"Perhaps even you," she murmured, "may take them more seriously some day."

A few minutes later Mrs. Van Reinberg rose.

"We shall all meet," she remarked, looking round the table, "at eleven o'clock in the library."

In common with most of the younger men, I left the table at the same time, the usual custom, I had discovered, here, where cigarettes were smoked indiscriminately. There was baccarat in the hall; billiards and bridge for those who care for them. Mrs. Van Reinberg waited for me in the first of the long suite of reception-rooms. Mr. de Valentin, who had been talking earnestly to her most of the time during the service of dinner, remained only a few paces off. It struck me that Mrs. Van Reinberg was not in the best of humors.

"Mr. Courage," she said, "I think it only right that I should let you know that Mr. de Valentin strongly objects to your presence at our meeting to-night."

"I am very sorry to hear it," I answered. "May I ask upon what grounds?"

"He seems to imagine," she declared, "that you are not trustworthy."

Mr. de Valentin hastily intervened.

"My dear Mrs. Van Reinberg!" he exclaimed.

"I hope you will believe, Mr. Courage," he continued, turning towards me, "that nothing was further from my thoughts. I simply say that as you are not interested in the matter which we are going to discuss, your presence is quite unnecessary, and might become a source of mutual embarrassment."

"On the contrary," I assured him, "I am very much interested. Perhaps Mr. de Valentin does not know," I added, turning towards Mrs. Van Reinberg, "that your stepdaughter has done me the honor of promising to be my wife."

There was a moment's breathless pause. I saw Mrs. Van Reinberg falter, and I saw something which I did not understand flash across Mr. de Valentin's face.

"Even in that case," he said in a very low tone, "Miss Van Hoyt will herself be present. It is not necessary that you should accompany her."

"I regret to say that I think differently," I answered. "Unless Mrs. Van Reinberg withdraws her invitation, I shall certainly be present."

"That," Mrs. Van Reinberg declared, "I shall not do. Mr. Courage must do as he thinks best."

Mr. de Valentin bowed slightly, and turned away. His lips were parted in a very unpleasant and most peculiar smile.

"I am very sorry," I said to Mrs. Van Reinberg, "to be the cause of any uneasiness."

"The Prince," she answered, departing for the first time from the use of his incognito, "is very nervous. He is used to advisers and friends, and, for almost the first time in his life, he is entirely alone. I sometimes wonder whether he has really sufficient nerve to take up a great part in life."

"Circumstances," I remarked, "often create the man!"

"I hope," she said a little grimly, "that they will make a man of Mr. de Valentin."

She took a cigarette from the little gold case which hung from her chatelaine, and lit it.

"I will tell you, Mr. Courage," she said, "why I am rather anxious for you to be present at the meeting to-night. You are altogether disinterested, and you should be able to form a sane opinion of Mr. de Valentin's proposals. I should like to hear how they appeal to you."

I bowed.

"I will tell you exactly what I think," I answered.

She dismissed me with a little nod.

I went in search of Adele, but could find no trace of her in any of the rooms. At last, in one of the corridors, I heard Nagaski barking, and found him sitting outside the closed door of a small reading-room. Directly I moved towards him, however, he flew at me, and seized my trousers between his teeth. His eyes were fierce with anger, his whole skin seemed to be quivering with excitement. At the sound of his angry growls, the door was opened, and Adele appeared.

"Nagaski, you naughty dog!" she exclaimed.

Nagaski let go of my trousers, but continued to growl. Adele stooped to pick him up, and he immediately attempted to lick her face. I saw then, to my surprise, that she was very pale, and had all the appearance of having received a shock.

"What has happened?" I asked.

She motioned me to enter the room, and closed the door behind us.

"I have just received a cable from Europe," she said in a low tone. "It concerns you!"

I looked at her keenly.

"Well?"

"Something has been found out. A friend of Mr. Stanley's left Havre yesterday for New York. You will not be safe for a moment after he arrives. And in the meantime, I have a message for Mr. de Valentin. I wonder," she added, with a faint smile, "what chance you would have of being at the meeting to-night, if I should deliver it now?"

"Then please don't deliver it," I begged. "I am really getting curious about this affair. You can hold it back for an hour or so, can't you?"

"Yes!" she answered quietly, "I can do that."

She was a changed being during the last hour. Her eyes were full of fear, she seemed to have lost alike her brilliancy and her splendid courage. She did not resist me when I took her into my arms, but her very passiveness was ominous.

"Come," I said cheerfully, "this really isn't so serious as it seems. I shall be away from here before Mr. Stanley's friend arrives, I may even be out of the country. Why shouldn't you come with me, Adele?"

She disengaged herself gently from my arms.

"You are a very thoughtless person," she said quietly. "Not only would it be impossible for me to do that, but there must not be a word about our engagement. Remember that I have given false information about you. It is not the risk for myself that I mind so much, but—there are other things! To-morrow you or I must leave here!"

"It shall be I, of course," I answered. "I was going anyhow. Don't lose heart, Adele. If we are to be separated, it shall not be for long!"

She shook her head, but she smiled at me, although it was a little sadly.

"We may not have the power to decide that for ourselves," she answered. "Listen!"

The great clock in the tower over the stables was striking eleven. We listened until it had finished.

"Now kiss me, dear," she said, leaning towards me.

I stooped down, and her arms were suddenly around me like a vise. She clung to me with her whole body, and held me so that I could scarcely breathe.

"I will not let you go," she cried. "It is death for you if you learn their plans. Fate has given you to me, and no one shall take you away. Oh! stay with me, Jim—my sweetheart—my dear! dear! dear!"

Her lips were upon mine before I could speak. She was drawing me away from the door. Her eyes, her arms, her whole body seemed to be pleading with me. Then suddenly there came a low knocking at the door. I stood away—no longer a prisoner. It was a wonderful intervention this! How else could I have escaped?

The door opened slowly. It was the French maid who stood there. She looked around the room and beckoned to the dog.

"I beg mademoiselle's pardon," she said. "I came for Nagaski. I heard him whine, and I thought that he was alone."

She stood there motionless, her pale, expressionless face turned towards us, her full black eyes turned hurriedly away. I think that she knew what she had done. Adele sank down upon the sofa, and Nagaski, with a low growl at me, sprang into her lap. I left the room ungracefully enough, with only a muttered word of farewell. As I passed along the corridor, I heard Nagaski's bark of joy!



CHAPTER XXVI

FOR VALUE RECEIVED

There were exactly twelve people present when I entered the room and took my place at the long table—six men and six women, Mr. de Valentin sat at the extreme end, and as I entered his face grew dark with sudden anger. He glanced quickly at Mrs. Van Reinberg, who, however, was whispering to her husband, and declined to look. Then he half rose to his feet and addressed me.

"Mr. Courage," he said, "this is a little private gathering between these friends of mine and myself, to discuss a private matter in which we are all much interested. Under these circumstances, I trust that you will not think it discourteous if I ask you to withdraw. Your presence might very possibly tend to check free discussion, and, I might add, would be a source of embarrassment to myself."

I glanced towards Mrs. Van Reinberg.

"I am here," I said, "by the invitation of our hostess. If Mrs. Van Reinberg asks me to withdraw, I should, of course, have no alternative but to do so. I should like to say, however, that it would give me very much pleasure to be admitted to your conference, and any advice I might be able to offer as an impartial person would be entirely at your service."

Mrs. Van Reinberg whispered for a moment with her husband, who then leaned over towards me.

"Mr. Courage," he said, "I believe you to be a person of common sense. I am not sure that I can say the same for the rest of us here. Seems to me I'd like to have you stop; but there is one thing I think should be understood. This is a private meeting of friends. Are you prepared, as a man of honor, to give your word to keep secret whatever passes here?"

I was afraid that some condition of this sort would be imposed, but I was ready with my answer.

"Most certainly I am, Mr. Van Reinberg," I declared, "with one reservation, and that is that nothing is proposed which is inimical to my country. I presume that I may take that for granted?"

"You may," Mr. Van Reinberg answered shortly. "We are not such fools as to run up against the old country. On the contrary, Mr. de Valentin has assured us that his scheme has a little more than the moral support of your government."

Mr. de Valentin intervened with a little gesture of excitement.

"No!" he exclaimed, "I do not. I must not go so far as that. I do not mention any government by name."

"Quite right," Mr. Van Reinberg assented, "but the fact's there all the same. I guess you can stay where you are, Mr. Courage!"

Mr. de Valentin shot an evil glance at me, but he leaned back in his chair with the air of a man who has no more to say. Mr. Van Reinberg, on the other hand, cleared his throat and stood up.

"Well," he said, "we'll get to business. I've a word or two to say first to you, Hickson, and my other friends. We've none of us been idlers in the world. We started out to make money, and we've made it. We're probably worth more than any other five men in the world. We can control the finance of every nation, we can rule the money markets of every capital in Europe. Personally I'm satisfied. I guess you are. It seems, however, that our wives aren't. I'm sorry for it, but it can't be helped. They want something that dollars in the ordinary way can't buy. This scheme is to meet that case. It's my wife's idea—my wife's and Mr. de Valentin's between them. I take it that if you go into it you'll go into it for the same reason that I do—for your wives' sakes. I want to make this clear, for I tell you frankly I think it's the biggest fool's game I've ever taken a hand in. I'm proud of my name, if my wife isn't. If any one got calling me Monsieur le Duc of anything, I guess my fingers 'd itch to knock him down. If our wives, however, won't be happy till they hear themselves called Madame la Duchesse, I suppose we've got to take a back seat. Mr. de Valentin here says that he's the rightful King of France. I know nothing about history, but no doubt he's right. He says, too, that in their hearts the French people want him on the throne, and, with money, he says he could find his way there. The bargain is, I understand, that we find the money, and he establishes our wives well amongst the aristocracy of France. He asks for twelve million dollars, that is two millions each. If my wife asks me to, I shall put my lot down, much as I should buy her the Czar of Russia's crown if it came on the market, and she wanted it. It's for you to say whether you want to come in. If you want to ask any questions, there's Mr. de Valentin. He's come over to fix the thing up, and I guess he's prepared to give you all particulars."

There was a little murmur of conversation. Mr. de Valentin rose to his feet.

"My friends," he said, "Mr. Van Reinberg in his very plain words has put before you the outline of my plans. It is not very much more that I can tell you beyond this. The army and the navy are loyalists. I have friends everywhere. They wait only for an opportunity. When it comes, all will be easily arranged. Those who are indifferent I bribe. There is already a great secret society in both services. One whole army corps is pledged to me. Look, then, this is what happens. A great Power"—Mr. de Valentin looked steadfastly at me—"a great Power one day makes a demonstration against France. It is a bolt from a clear blue sky; for my country, alas, is always preparing but never ready for war. The Press—I bribe the Press, those who are not already my friends—is hysterical. It strikes the note of fear, it attacks vehemently the government. The moment of war arrives. All is confusion. I appear! I address the people of France; I appeal to my fellow-countrymen. 'Put your trust in me,' I cry, 'and I will save you.' The Power of whom I have spoken stays its hand. Its Press declares for me. The government resigns. I march boldly into Paris at the head of the army, and behold—it is finished. The people are at my feet, the crown is on my head. Not a drop of blood has been spilt; but war is averted, and a great, new alliance is formed. France takes once more her place amongst the great nations of the world."

The man was in earnest beyond a doubt. The perspiration stood out in little beads upon his forehead, his dark eyes were on fire, his tone and manner tremulous with the eloquence of conviction. There was a little murmur from the women—a soft whisper of applause.

"Monsieur," I said quietly, "you have spoken well and convincingly. Pardon my presumption, if I venture to ask you one question. The Power of whom you have spoken—is it England?"

He faced me bravely enough.

"Sir," he said, "you ask a question which you know well it is impossible that I should answer. It is not for me to betray a confidence such as this. But to those who are curious, I would say this. Which is the Power, think you, most likely to play such a magnificent, such a generous part in the history of the nations? Answer your own question, Mr. Courage! It should not be an impossible task."

Six ladies leaned forward in their places, and looked at me with flashing eyes. It was a suitable triumph for Mr. de Valentin. And yet I knew now all that I desired. Dimly I began to understand the great plot, and all that it meant.

Mr. Van Reinberg looked across the table.

"Well, Stern?" he asked.

"My husband's cheque is ready," the lady at his side answered quickly. "I guess the Prince can have it right now, if he chooses."

"And mine!" five other ladies declared almost in a breath.

Mr. Van Reinberg smiled.

"Then I guess the deal is fixed," he remarked.

A dark-haired, little woman, sitting at my right hand, leaned forward towards Mr. de Valentin. She wore a magnificent crown of diamonds and sapphires, which had once graced a Royal head, and a collar of diamonds which was famous throughout the world.

"I'd like to know," she said, "are we to choose our own titles? I've fixed on one I want."

Mr. de Valentin rose in his place.

"My dear lady," he said, "that would not be possible. To Mrs. Van Reinberg alone I have been able to offer the name she desired. That, I think, you will none of you object to, for it is through Mrs. Van Reinberg that you are all here to-night. For the rest, I have taken five of the great names of France, of whom to-day there are no direct descendants. It is for you yourselves to say how these shall be allotted."

Five ladies looked at one another a little doubtfully. Mr. Van Reinberg glanced at me, and there was a shrewd twinkle in his keen eyes.

"I should think you had better draw for them," he suggested. "Mr. de Valentin can write the names down on pieces of paper, and Mr. Courage, as a disinterested party, can hold the hat."

Mr. de Valentin shrugged his shoulders. His composure was not in the least disturbed. Whatever he may have felt, he treated the suggestion with perfect seriousness.

"If the ladies are agreeable," he declared, "I myself am quite indifferent how it is arranged. As regards the money, I shall give to each an undertaking to repay the amount in treasury notes within a year of my ascending the throne of my country."

My neighbor in the diamonds was still a little disturbed.

"Say," she inquired, "what do these titles amount to anyway? What shall we be able to call ourselves?"

"Either Madame la Comtesse or Madame la Marquise," Mr. de Valentin answered.

"Madame la Marquise!" she repeated, "that's the one I should like."

"So should I!" nearly all the ladies declared in unison.

Mr. Van Reinberg laughed softly to himself. For the first time, he seemed to be enjoying the situation.

"There's nothing for it but the hat, Mr. de Valentin," he declared.

Mr. de Valentin bowed.

"If every one is agreeable," he said stiffly, drawing a sheet of note paper towards him and beginning to write.

No one seemed quite satisfied; but, on the other hand, no one had any other suggestion to make. Mr. Van Reinberg leaned forward in his chair. He was beginning, apparently, to take a keen interest in the proceedings.

"Of course," he said softly, "the names could be read out, and if any of you took a special fancy to any of the titles, we could have a sort of auction, the proceeds to go to the fund."

Mr. de Valentin turned towards him with a stony look. Only his eyes expressed his anger.

"I presume that you are not in earnest, Mr. Van Reinberg," he said in a low tone. "Such a course is utterly out of the question."

Mr. Van Reinberg scratched his chin thoughtfully. Mr. de Valentin completed his task, and handed the slips of paper over to me.

"I shall ask Mr. Courage," he said, rising, "to distribute these through the agency of chance. For myself, I will, with your permission, retire. I will only say this to you, ladies, and to my friends. I hope and believe that it will not be long before I shall have the pleasure of meeting you under very different circumstances. You will be very welcome to the Court of France. I trust that together we may be able to revive some of her former glories, and I do believe that your presence amongst our ancient aristocracy will be for her lasting good."

So Mr. de Valentin left the room a little abruptly, and I thought it the most graceful thing he had done. I shook up the slips of paper, which he had given me in a hat, and handed them round.

There was an intense silence, and then a perfect babel of exclamations.

"Marquise de Lafoudre! My, isn't that fine!"

"Comtesse de St. Estien! Well, I declare!"

"Comtesse de Vinoy. Say, Richard, are you listening? Madame la Comtesse de Vinoy. Great, isn't it!"

Mrs. Van Reinberg smiled upon them all the well-satisfied smile of one whose guerdon is deservedly greater than these. The little dark woman turned towards her abruptly.

"Tell us yours, Edith!" she exclaimed. "Don't say you're a Princess."

Mrs. Van Reinberg shook her head, unconsciously her manner was already a little changed. She was, after all, a swan amongst these geese!

"We are to have the Duchy of Annonay," she answered. "I suppose I shall be Madame la Duchesse."

Monsieur le Duc touched me on the shoulder.

"Here," he exclaimed in my ear, "let's get out of this!"



CHAPTER XXVII

INTERNATIONAL POLITICS

Mr. Van Reinberg led the way silently into the smoking-room, and ordered Scotch whisky. "Mr. Courage," he said from the depths of his easy-chair, "I've got to ask you a question. What do you think of us?"

I laughed outright.

"I think," I answered, "that you are a very good husband."

He lit a cigar and pushed the box towards me.

"I'm glad you put it like that," he said earnestly. "And yet I guess we're to blame. We've let our wives slip away from us. Only natural, I suppose. We have our battlefields and they must have theirs. We rule the money markets, and they aspire to rule in society. I don't know how to blame my wife, Mr. Courage, but I hope you'll believe me when I tell you this: I'd sooner chuck ten or twenty millions into the Atlantic than be mixed up with this affair."

"I believe you, Mr. Van Reinberg," I answered.

He drew a sigh of relief. I think that my assurance pleased him.

"Tell me now," he said; "you are a man of common sense. Is that fellow a crank, or is he going to pull this thing off?"

I hesitated.

"His scheme is ingenious enough," I said, "and I believe it is quite true that there are a great many people in France who would be glad to see the Monarchy revived. They are a people, too, whom it is easy to catch on the top of a wave of sentiment. But, so far as I can see, there are at least two things against him."

"I trust," Mr. Van Reinberg murmured, "that they are big enough."

"In the first place," I continued, "I doubt whether Mr. de Valentin is a sufficiently heroic figure to fire the imagination of the people. He does not seem to me to have the daring to carry a mob with him, and he will need that. And in the second place—"

"Well?"

I glanced around the room. We were absolutely alone, but I dropped my voice.

"Is this in confidence, Mr. Van Reinberg?" I asked.

"Sure!"

"I do not believe that the Power whose intervention he relies so much upon is England. I do not believe that my country would risk so much to gain so little. We are on excellent terms with France as it is. Secret negotiations with Mr. de Valentin would be unpardonable chicanery on our part, and I do not think that our ministers would lend themselves to it."

Mr. Van Reinberg nodded.

"Whom do you believe he referred to then?" he asked.

"Germany," I told him. "That is where I believe that he has made a fatal mistake. He will never make a successful bid for the sympathies of the French people, if he presents himself before them backed by their historic enemy. Of course, you must understand," I added, "that this is pure speculation on my part. I may be altogether wrong. One can only surmise."

"On the whole, then," Mr. Van Reinberg asked anxiously, "you would not back his chances?"

"I should not," I admitted.

For a man who had just invested two million dollars in those chances, Mr. Van Reinberg looked remarkably cheerful.

"I'm right down glad to hear you say that," he admitted. "I know nothing about things over in Europe myself, and my wife seemed so confident. It'll be a blow to her, I'm afraid, if it doesn't come off; but I fancy it'll be a bigger one to me if it does!"

"You do not fancy yourself, then, as Monsieur le Duc," I remarked smiling.

He looked at me in speechless scorn.

"Do I look like a duke?" he asked indignantly. "Besides, I'm an American citizen, an American born and bred, and I love my country," he added with a note of pride in his tone. "Paris, to me, means the Grand Hotel, the American bar, the telephone and an interpreter. Mrs. Van Reinberg will stay at the Ritz. I guess I sleep there and that's all. No! sir! When I'm through with business, I'm meaning to spend what I can of my dollars in the country where I made them, and not go capering about amongst a lot of people whose language I don't understand, and who wouldn't care ten cents about me anyway. Some people have a fancy to end their days up in the mountains, where they can hear the winds blow and the birds sing, and nothing else. I'm not quite that way myself. I hope I'll die with my window wide open, so that I can hear the ferry-boats in the river, and the Broadway cars, and the rattle of the elevated trains. That's the music that beats in my blood, Mr. Courage! and I guess I'll never be able to change the tune. Say, will you pass that bottle, sir? We'll drink once more, sir, and I'll give you a toast. May that last investment of mine go to smash! I drink to the French Republic!"

I pledged him and we set down our glasses hastily. We heard voices and the trailing of dresses in the corridor. In a moment they all came trooping in.

Mrs. Stern looked round the room eagerly.

"If he's gone to bed I'll never forgive him," she declared. "I'm just crazy to know whether there isn't some sort of old chateau belonging to the family, that Richard can buy and fix up. Have you seen Mr. de Valentin?" she asked us.

"He's gone upstairs, sure enough," Mr. Van Reinberg answered. "Give the poor man a rest till the morning. Where's the Marquis? Come and have a drink, Marquis!"

"Quit fooling," Mr. Stern declared testily. "Here's Esther saying I'll have to wear black satin knickerbockers and a sword!"

"Wear them in Wall Street," Mr. Van Reinberg declared, "and I'll stand you terrapin at the Waldorf. Come on, Count, and the rest of you noblemen. Let's toast one another."

Mrs. Van Reinberg motioned me to follow her into the billiard-room.

"Well!" she exclaimed, looking at me searchingly,

I could scarcely keep from smiling, but she was terribly in earnest.

"I want to know exactly," she said, "what you think of it all. I know my husband has been making fun of it. He does not understand. He never will."

"Mr. de Valentin's scheme is a good one," I said slowly, "but he has not told us everything. If you want my opinion—"

"Of course I do," she declared.

"Then I think," I continued, "that his success depends a good deal upon something which he did not tell us."

"What is it?" she asked, eagerly.

"It depends, I think," I said, "upon the Power which has agreed to back his claims. If that Power is England, as he tried to make us believe, he has a great chance. If it is Germany, I think that he will fail."

She frowned impatiently.

"You are prejudiced," she declared.

"Perhaps," I answered. "Still, I may be right, you know."

"Germany is infinitely more powerful," she objected. "If she mobilized an army on the frontier, and France found half her soldiers disaffected—"

"You forget," I interposed, "that there would be England to be reckoned with. England is bound to help France in the event of a German invasion."

She smiled confidently.

"I don't fancy," she remarked, "that England could help much."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Perhaps not," I admitted; "yet I do not believe that German intervention will ever win for Mr. de Valentin the throne of France."

She changed the subject abruptly.

"Apart from this, let me ask you something else, Mr. Courage. Supposing the plot should succeed. How do you think it will be with us at the French Court? You know more about these things than we do. Shall we be accepted as the original holders of these titles would have been? Do you think that we shall have trouble with the French aristocrats?"

"I am afraid, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I answered, "that I am scarcely competent to answer such questions. Still, you must remember that your country-people have secured a firm footing in France, and it will be the King himself who will be your sponsor."