hancellor realized that the other was telling him
as plainly as he dared that the German government had offered such a
sum to forward the very intrigue which he was so emphatically denying.
"Why not turn the matter over to your own ambassador here?"

The secret agent laughed. "Publicity is what neither your government
nor mine desires. Thank you."

"I am sorry not to be of some service to you."

"I can readily believe that, your excellency," not to be outdone in the
matter of duplicity. "I thank you for your time."

"I hadn't the least idea that you were in the service; butterflies and
diplomacy!" with a hearty laugh.

"It is only temporary."

"Your _Alpine Butterflies_ compares favorably with _The Life of the
Bee_."

"That is a very great compliment!"

And with this the interview, extraordinary in all ways, came to an end.
Neither man had fooled the other, neither had made any mistake in his
logical deductions; and, in a way, both were satisfied. The chancellor
resumed his more definite labors, and the secret agent hurried away to
the nearest telegraph office.

"So I am to stand on these two feet?" Monsieur Ferraud ruminated, as he
took the seat by the window in the second-class carriage for Munich.
"All the finer the sport. Ten thousand marks! He forgot himself for a
moment. And I might have gone further and said that ninety thousand
marks would be added to those ten thousand if the bribe was accepted
and the promise fulfilled."

Ah, it would be beautiful to untangle this snarl all alone. It would
be the finest chase that had ever fallen to his lot. No grain of sand,
however small, should escape him. There were fools in Berlin as well
as in Paris; and he knew what he knew. "Never a move shall he make
that I shan't make the same; and in one thing I shall move first. Two
million francs! Handsome! It is I who must find this treasure, this
fulcrum to the lever which is going to upheave France. There will be
no difficulty then in pricking the pretty bubble. In the meantime we
shall proceed to Munich and carefully inquire into the affairs of the
grand opera singer, Hildegarde von Mitter."

He extracted a wallet from an inner pocket and opened it across his
knees. It was full of butterflies.

CHAPTER III

A PLASTER STATUETTE

Fitzgerald's view from his club window afforded the same impersonal
outlook as from a window in a car. It was the two living currents,
moving in opposite direc