outside. Therefore, on the assumption that it was the
treacherous deed of a Spaniard or Cuban imagining himself to be a
patriot, you are prepared to carry out your undertaking and supply the
Prince of Marsine with means to overthrow the Kingdom of Spain."

Peter paused. The figure on the chair remained motionless. No flicker
of intelligence or interest disturbed the calm of his features. It was
a silence almost unnatural. "I have brought the Duchesse here," Peter
continued, "to tell you the truth as to the Maine disaster."

Not even then was there the slightest alteration in those ashen gray
features. The Duchesse looked up. She had the air of one only too eager
to speak and finish.

"In those days," she said, "I was the wife of a rich Cuban gentleman,
whose name I withhold. The American officers on board the Maine used to
visit at our house. My husband was jealous; perhaps he had cause."

The Duchesse paused. Even though the light of tragedy and romance side
by side seemed suddenly to creep into the room, Sirdeller listened as
one come back from a dead world.

"One night," the Duchesse went on, "my husband's suspicions were changed
into knowledge. He came home unexpectedly. The American--the officer--I
loved him--he was there on the balcony with me. My husband said nothing.
The officer returned to the ship. That night my husband came into my
room. He bent over my bed. 'It is not you,' he whispered, 'whom I shall
destroy, for the pain of death is short. Anguish of mind may live.
To-night six hundred ghosts may hang about your pillow!'"

Her voice broke. There was something grim and unnatural in that curious
stillness. Even the secretary was at last breathing a little faster.
The watchman at the door was leaning forward. Sirdeller simply moved his
hand to the doctor, who held up his finger while he felt the pulse. The
beat of his watch seemed to sound through the unnatural silence. In a
minute he spoke.

"The lady may proceed," he announced.

"My husband," the Duchesse continued, "was an officer in charge of the
Mines and Ordnance Department. He went out that night in a small boat,
after a visit to the strong house. No soul has ever seen or heard of him
since, or his boat. It is only I who know!"

Her voice died away. Sirdeller stretched out his hand and very
deliberately drank a tablespoonful or two of his milk.

"I believe the lady's story," he declared. "The Marsine affair is
finished. Let no one be admitt