to probe a mystery to its root never
uses the word "impossible". But I will say this for young Mr Dimmock.
I think he repented, and I think that it was because he repented that
he--er--died so suddenly, and that his body was spirited away.'

'Why has no one told me these things before?' Aribert exclaimed.

'Princes seldom hear the truth,' she said.

He was astonished at her coolness, her firmness of assertion, her air of
complete acquaintance with the world.

'Miss Racksole,' he said, 'if you will permit me to say it, I have
never in my life met a woman like you. May I rely on your sympathy--your
support?'

'My support, Prince? But how?'

'I do not know,' he replied. 'But you could help me if you would. A
woman, when she has brain, always has more brain than a man.'

'Ah!' she said ruefully, 'I have no brains, but I do believe I could
help you.'

What prompted her to make that assertion she could not have explained,
even to herself. But she made it, and she had a suspicion--a
prescience--that it would be justified, though by what means, through
what good fortune, was still a mystery to her.

'Go to Berlin,' she said. 'I see that you must do that; you have no
alternative. As for the rest, we shall see. Something will occur.
I shall be here. My father will be here. You must count us as your
friends.'

He kissed her hand when he left, and afterwards, when she was alone, she
kissed the spot his lips had touched again and again. Now, thinking
the matter out in the calmness of solitude, all seemed strange, unreal,
uncertain to her. Were conspiracies actually possible nowadays? Did
queer things actually happen in Europe? And did they actually happen in
London hotels? She dined with her father that night.

'I hear Prince Aribert has left,' said Theodore Racksole.

'Yes,' she assented. She said not a word about their interview.

Chapter Eight ARRIVAL AND DEPARTURE OF THE BARONESS

ON the following morning, just before lunch, a lady, accompanied by a
maid and a considerable quantity of luggage, came to the Grand Babylon
Hotel. She was a plump, little old lady, with white hair and an
old-fashioned bonnet, and she had a quaint, simple smile of surprise at
everything in general.

Nevertheless, she gave the impression of belonging to some aristocracy,
though not the English aristocracy. Her tone to her maid, whom she
addressed in broken English--the girl being apparently English--was
distinctly insolent, wit