ttle forced,
on her lips.

On the balcony a number of persons appeared. "A cotillion! We're going
to have a cotillion; that is, if you--"

"Of course, if you wish." The gay group surrounded her; light, heedless
voices mingled; then she, all of them, vanished into the ball-room.

John Steele moved slowly down the stone steps leading to the garden
below. One thought vibrated in his mind. Sir Charles had erred when he
told him that day in the park of his niece and Ronsdale. Perhaps because
the wish was father to the thought--But the girl's own assurance
dispelled all doubts and fears. He, John Steele, had been mistaken.
Those were her words, "Mistaken!"

He could go away now, gladly, gladly! No; not that, perhaps; but he
could go. If need be,--far from England; never to be seen, heard of,
more by her. He could go, and she would never know she had honored by
her friendship, had sheltered beneath her roof, one who--As he walked
down the dimly lighted path somebody--a man--standing under the trees,
at one side, at that moment touched his arm.

"I should like to speak with you, sir!" said a voice, and turning with a
quick jerk, Steele saw the familiar features of Gillett, the former
police agent; behind him, other men.

"What do you want?"

The Scotland Yard man coughed significantly. "Out here is a nice, quiet
place for a word, or so," he said in his blandest manner. "And if you
will be so good--"

John Steele's reply was as emphatic as it was sudden; he had been
dreaming; the awakening had come. A glint like lightning flashed from
his eyes; well, here was something tangible to be grappled with! A laugh
burst from his throat; with the quickness of thought he launched himself
forward.

* * * * *

CHAPTER XIII

THE PRINCESS SUITE

A House maid, some time later that night, moved noiselessly over the
heavy rugs in the boudoir of the princess suite, next to armory hall on
the second story of Strathorn House. Glancing nervously about her from
time to time, the woman trimmed a candle here and set another there;
then lifted with ponderous brass tongs a few coals and placed them on
the smoldering bed in the delicately tinted fireplace. After which she
stood before it in the attitude of one who is waiting though not with
stolid and undisturbed patience.

A clock ticked loudly on the mantel; she looked at it, around her at the
shadows of two beautiful marbles on pedestals of malac