journalist said
seriously. "It isn't on my own account, and I--"

"All right. You come to my room at ten t'morrow morning?"

"Well, if you can't possibly make it to-night," said Cornish
reluctantly. "I wish--"

"Can't possibly."

And Cooley, taking Mellin by the arm, walked rapidly down the corridor.
"Funny ole correspondent," he murmured. "What do _I_ know about the
Vatican?"

V. Lady Mount Rhyswicke

The four friends of Madame de Vaurigard were borne to her apartment from
the Magnifique in Cooley's big car. They sailed triumphantly down and up
the hills in a cool and bracing air, under a moon that shone as brightly
for them as it had for Caesar, and Mellin's soul was buoyant within him.
He thought of Cranston and laughed aloud. What would Cranston say if it
could see him in a sixty-horse touring-car, with two millionaires and an
English diplomat, brother of an earl, and all on the way to dine with a
countess? If Mary Kramer could see him!... Poor Mary Kramer! Poor little
Mary Kramer!

A man-servant took their coats in Madame de Vaurigard's hall, where
they could hear through the curtains the sound of one or two voices in
cheerful conversation.

Sneyd held up his hand.

"Listen," he said. "Shawly, that isn't Lady Mount-Rhyswicke's voice! She
couldn't be in Reom--always a Rhyswicke Caws'l for Decembah. By Jev, it
is!"

"Nothin' of the kind," said Pedlow. "I know Lady Mount-Rhyswicke as well
as I know you. I started her father in business when he was clerkin'
behind a counter in Liverpool. I give him the money to begin on. 'Make
good,' says I, 'that's all. Make good!' And he done it, too. Educated
his daughter fit fer a princess, married her to Mount-Rhyswicke, and
when he died left her ten million dollars if he left her a cent! I know
Madge Mount-Rhyswicke and that ain't her voice."

A peal of silvery laughter rang from the other side of the curtain.

"They've heard you," said Cooley.

"An' who could help it?" Madame de Vaurigard herself threw back the
curtains. "Who could help hear our great, dear, ole lion? How he roar'!"

She wore a white velvet "princesse" gown of a fashion which was a shade
less than what is called "daring," with a rope of pearls falling from
her neck and a diamond star in her dark hair. Standing with one arm
uplifted to the curtains, and with the mellow glow of candles and
firelight behind her, she was so lovely that both Mellin and Cooley
stood breathlessly still until s