hand upon his arm--a little caressing, foreign gesture.

"Tell me," she said, "how did you manage it?"

"We left the dance together," Jermyn said. "I could see that he wanted
to get rid of me, but I offered to take him in my motor car. I told the
man to choose some back streets, and while we were passing through one
of them, I took Von Hern by the throat. We had a struggle, of course,
but I got the paper."

"What did you do with Von Hern?" she asked.

"I left him on his doorstep," the young American answered. "He wasn't
really hurt, but he was only half conscious. I don't think he'll bother
any one to-night."

"You dear, brave man!" she murmured. "Paul, what am I to say to you?"

He laughed.

"That's what I'm here to ask," he declared. "You wouldn't give me my
answer at the ball. Perhaps you'll give it me now?"

They sprang apart. Ruff felt his nerves stiffen--felt himself
constrained to hold even his breath as he widened a little the crack
in the curtains. This was no stealthy entrance. The door had been flung
open. Von Hern, his dress in wild disorder, pale as a ghost, and with a
great bloodstain upon his cheek, stood confronting them.

"When you have done with your love-making," he called out, "I'll trouble
you to restore my property!"

The electric light gleamed upon a small revolver which flashed out
toward the young American. Paul Jermyn never hesitated for a moment. He
seized the chair by his side and flung it at Von Hern. There was a shot,
the crash of the falling chair, a cry from Jermyn, who never hesitated,
however, in his rush. The two men closed. A second shot went harmlessly
to the ceiling. The little lady stole away--stole softly across the room
toward the table. She opened the drawer. Suddenly the blood in her veins
was frozen into fear. From nowhere, it seemed to her, came a hand which
held her wrists like iron!

"Madam," Peter Ruff whispered from behind the curtain, "I am sorry to
deprive you of it, but this is stolen property."

Her screams rang through the room. Even the two men released one
another.

"It is gone! It is gone!" she cried. "Some one was hiding in the room!
Quick!"

She sprang into the hall. The two men followed her. The front door was
slammed. They heard flying footsteps outside. Von Hern was out first,
clearing the little flight of steps in one bound. Across the road he
saw a flying figure. A level stream of fire poured from his hand--twice,
three times. But Peter R