he
drawing-room, but long before that the fight is fought down cellar. The
diplomatists meet at table and there isn't any broken crockery, but you
can always tell what the player thinks of the dealer by the way he draws
three cards. Everybody is after results; and lots of monarchs of Europe
sit up nights polishing their crowns waiting for word from Washington."

So, this is Washington! And here at dinner are the diplomatic
representatives of all the nations. That is the British ambassador, that
stolid-faced, distinguished-looking, elderly man; and this is the French
ambassador, dapper, volatile, plus-correct; here Russia's highest
representative wags a huge, blond beard; and yonder is the phlegmatic
German ambassador. Scattered around the table, brilliant splotches of
color, are the uniformed envoys of the Orient--the smaller the country
the more brilliant the splotch. It is a state dinner, to be followed by
a state ball, and they are all present.

The Italian ambassador, Count di Rosini, was trying to interpret a
French _bon mot_ into English for the benefit of the dainty, doll-like
wife of the Chinese minister--who was educated at Radcliffe--when a
servant leaned over him and laid a sealed envelope beside his plate. The
count glanced around at the servant, excused himself to Mrs. Quong Li
Wi, and opened the envelope. Inside was a single sheet of embassy note
paper, and a terse line signed by his secretary:

"A lady is waiting for you here. She says she must see you immediately,
on a matter of the greatest importance."

The count read the note twice, with wrinkled brow, then scribbled on it
in pencil:

"Impossible to-night. Tell her to call at the embassy to-morrow morning
at half-past ten o'clock."

He folded the note, handed it to the servant, and resumed his
conversation with Mrs. Wi.

Half an hour later the same servant placed a second sealed envelope
beside his plate. Recognizing the superscription, the ambassador
impatiently shoved it aside, intending to disregard it. But irritated
curiosity finally triumphed, and he opened it. A white card on which was
written this command was his reward:

"It is necessary that you come to the embassy at once."

There was no signature. The handwriting was unmistakably that of a
woman, and just as unmistakably strange to him. He frowned a little as
he stared at it wonderingly, then idly turned the card over. There was
no name on the reverse side--only a crest. Evidentl