pressible little flutter of tender
excitement, that if the fantastic story hinted at in _Tattle of the
Town_, were true, then the boy whom, years ago, she had seen pictured in
the photograph must have been actually Max himself.

And--again if it were true--how naturally and easily it explained that
little unconscious air of hauteur and authority that she had so often
observed in him--the "lordly" air upon which she had laughingly remarked
to Pobs, when describing the man who had been her companion on that
memorable railway journey, when death had drawn very near them both and
then had passed them by.

Her thoughts raced onward, envisaging the possibilities involved.

There were no dukes of Ruvania now; that she knew. The little State,
close on the borders of Russia, had been--like so many of the smaller
Eastern States--convulsed by a revolution, some ten years ago, and since
then had been governed by a republic.

Was the explanation of all that had so mystified her to be found in the
fact that Max was a political exile?

The _Tattle of the Town_ paragraph practically suggested, that the
affairs of the "well-known dramatist" were in some way bound up with the
destiny of Ruvania. That was indicated plainly enough in the reference
to "forthcoming events."

Diana's head whirled with the throng of confused ideas that poured in
upon her.

And Adrienne de Gervais? What part did she play in this strange medley?
_Tattle of the Town_ assigned her one. Max and Adrienne and Ruvania were
all inextricably tangled up together in the thought-provoking paragraph.

Suddenly, Diana's heart gave a great leap as a possible explanation of
the whole matter sprang into her mind. There had been two children of
the morganatic marriage, a son and a daughter. Was it conceivable that
Adrienne de Gervais was the daughter?

Adrienne, Max's sister! That would account for his inexplicably close
friendship with her, his devotion to her welfare, and--if she, like
himself, were exiled--the secrecy which he had maintained.

Slowly the conviction that this was the true explanation of all that had
caused her such bitter heartburning in the unhappy past grew and deepened
in Diana's mind. A chill feeling of dismay crept about her heart. If it
were true, then how hideously--how _unforgivably_--she had misjudged her
husband!

She drew a sharp, agonised breath, her shaking fingers gripping the
bedclothes like a frightened child's.

"Oh, no