Mr. O'Mally; go on. This is interesting. Your doubt is not at
all complimentary to me. The police have recognized my authority."

"And that's what feazes me. But the main thing is this: your princess
has played us all rather a shabby trick. In the letter you read to us in
Venice she said that she had never visited this villa."

"Only in her youth," replied La Signorina, her brows drawing together in
a frown. "But I know her so well; she is not in the habit of making
misstatements. To the point at once. What has happened to bring about
all this pother?"

"It is simply this: our little jig is up," responded O'Mally. "Read
these and see for yourself." He gave to her a broad white envelope and a
clipping from _La Nazione_ of the day before.

[Illustration: "Our little jig is up. Read these and see for yourself."]

She seized the clipping eagerly, but the eagerness died from her face
quickly, leaving it pale and stony. The clipping fluttered unheeded from
her fingers to the ground. Her gaze passed from one face to another, all
the while a horror growing in her eyes. Slowly she picked up the
envelope and drew out the card. Her eyes filled, but with tears of rage
and despair.

"Tell me, what is it?" cried Hillard, troubled, for his keen lover's
eyes saw these changes.

In answer she gave him the card. He read it. It _was_ rather a knock.
Now, why should the Principessa di Monte Bianca take it into her head to
give a ball in the Villa Ariadne, Wednesday week, when she had loaned
the villa indefinitely to her friend, La Signorina?

CHAPTER XXII

TANGLES

Hillard passed the card to Merrihew, who presented it to Kitty. Smith
had already seen it. He waved it aside moodily. La Signorina's eyes
roved, as in an effort to find some way out. Afar she discovered Worth,
his chin in his collar, his hands behind his back, his shoulders
studiously inclined, slowly pacing the graveled path which skirted the
conservatory. From time to time he kicked a pebble, followed it and
kicked it again, without purpose. Whether he saw them or not she could
not tell. Presently he turned the corner and was gone from sight. During
the past few days he had lived by himself; and for all that she did not
like him, she was sorry for him.

"It's a pretty kettle of fish," said O'Mally, rather pleased secretly in
having created so dramatic a moment. "She might have been kind enough,
however, to notify us in advance of her intentions. I am still