dly
drew on his gloves.

"And meanwhile I shall take steps to ascertain the attitude of Russian
and Japanese representatives in this city."

Mr. Grimm nodded.

"And now, for Prince Benedetto d'Abruzzi," Mr. Campbell went on slowly.
"Officially he is not in Washington, nor the United States, for that
matter. Naturally, on such a mission, he would not come as a publicly
accredited agent, therefore, I imagine, he is to be sought under another
name."

"Of course," Mr. Grimm acquiesced.

"And he would avoid the big hotels."

"Certainly."

Mr. Campbell permitted his guileless blue eyes to linger inquiringly
upon those of the young man for half a minute. He caught himself
wondering, sometimes, at the perfection of the deliberate indifference
with which Mr. Grimm masked his emotions. In his admiration of this
quality he quite overlooked the remarkable mask of benevolence behind
which he himself hid.

"And the name, D'Abruzzi," he remarked, after a time. "What does it mean
to you, Mr. Grimm?"

"It means that I am to deal with a prince of the royal blood of Italy,"
was the unhesitating response. Mr. Grimm picked up the Almanac de Gotha
and glanced at the open page. "Of course, the first thing to do is to
find him; the rest will be simple enough." He perused the page
carelessly. "I will begin work at once."

III

THE LANGUAGE OF THE FAN

Mr. Grimm was chatting idly with Senorita Rodriguez, daughter of the
minister from Venezuela, the while he permitted his listless eyes to
wander aimlessly about the spacious ball-room of the German embassy,
ablaze with festooned lights, and brilliant with a multi-colored chaos
of uniforms. Gleaming pearl-white, translucent in the mass, were the
bare shoulders of women; and from far off came the plaintive whine of an
orchestra, a pulsing sense rather than a living sound, of music, pointed
here and there by the staccato cry of a flute. A zephyr, perfumed with
the clean, fresh odor of lilacs, stirred the draperies of the archway
which led into the conservatory and rustled the bending branches of
palms and ferns.

For a scant instant Mr. Grimm's eyes rested on a young woman who sat a
dozen feet away, talking, in playful animation, with an undersecretary
of the British embassy--a young woman severely gowned in some glistening
stuff which fell away sheerly from her splendid bare shoulders. She
glanced up, as if in acknowledgment of his look, and her eyes met his.
Frank, blue-