She looked around
the room. It was still filled, but in their corner they were almost
unobserved.

"How much do you know?" she asked in a low tone which shook with
passion.

Peter smiled enigmatically.

"Perhaps more, even, than you, Duchesse," he replied. "I should like to
be your friend. You need one--you know that."

She rose abruptly to her feet.

"For to-night it is enough," she declared, wrapping her fur cloak around
her. "You may talk to me to-morrow, Baron. I must think. If you desire
really to be my friend, there is, perhaps, one service which I may
require of you. But to-night, no!"

Peter stood aside and allowed her to step past him. He was perfectly
content with the progress he had made. Her farewell salute was by no
means ungracious. As soon as she was out of sight, he returned to the
couch where she had been sitting. She had taken away the marconigrams,
but she had left upon the floor several copies of the New York Herald.
He took them up and read them carefully through. The last one he found
particularly interesting, so much so that he folded it up, placed it
in his coat pocket, and went off to look for Sogrange, whom he found at
last in the saloon, watching a noisy game of "Up Jenkins!" Peter sank
upon the cushioned seat by his side.

"You were right," he remarked. "Bernadine has been busy."

Sogrange smiled.

"I trust," he said, "that the Duchesse is not proving faithless?"

"So far," Peter replied, "I have kept my end up. Tomorrow will be the
test. Bernadine had filled her with caution. She thinks that I know
everything--whatever everything may be. Unless I can discover a little
more than I do now, to-morrow is going to be an exceedingly awkward day
for me."

"There is every prospect of your acquiring a great deal of valuable
information before then," Sogrange declared. "Sit tight, my friend.
Something is going to happen."

On the threshold of the saloon, ushered in by one of the stewards, a
tall, powerful-looking man, with a square, well-trimmed black beard,
was standing looking around as though in search of some one. The steward
pointed out, with an unmistakable movement of his head, Peter and
Sogrange. The man approached and took the next table.

"Steward," he directed, "bring me a glass of Vermouth and some
dominoes."

Peter's eyes were suddenly bright. Sogrange touched his foot under the
table and whispered a word of warning. The dominoes were brought. The
newcomer arranged the