all my surroundings, I am not what I seem.
Fate has drawn me into the system of which you form part; but,
believe me, I know nothing of the service to which you and
Mortimer and the rest belong!"

She spoke with painful earnestness and in a tone so mournful that
Desmond felt himself profoundly moved. "If only she is not
acting!" he thought, and sought to shake himself free from the
spell which this girl seemed able to cast about him at will.

"Promise me that you will respect my confidence and help me!" she
said and held out her hand.

Desmond's big hand closed about hers and he felt an odd thrill of
sympathy with her as their hands met.

"I promise!" he said and murmured to himself something very like
a prayer that he might not be called upon to redeem his word.

She let her eyes rest for a moment on his.

"Be careful!" she urged warningly, while the ghost of a smile
flitted across her face. "Very soon I may call upon you to make
good your words!"

"I promise!" he repeated--and his eyes never left hers.

"Then," she cried passionately, "find out who has stolen for the
Crown Prince the Star of Poland at the price of the life of a
harmless old man!"

"The Star of Poland!" repeated Desmond. "What is the Star of
Poland?"

The girl drew herself up proudly and there was a certain dignity
about her manner as she answered.

"I am a Pole," she said, "and to us Poles, the Star of Poland has
stood for centuries as a pledge of the restoration of our
long-lost kingdom. It was the principal jewel of the Polish
Coronation sword which vanished many hundreds of years ago--in
the thirteenth century, one of my compatriots once told me--and
it was one of the most treasured national possessions in the
Chateau of our great king, John Sobieski at Villanoff, outside
Warsaw. My friend, I am not religious, and since my childhood I
have renounced the ancient faith of my fathers, but, when I think
of the extraordinary chain of circumstances by which this
treasure came into my possession, I almost believe that God has
chosen me to restore this gem to the King of an independent
Poland.

"Four years ago I was in the United States, a very humble dancer
in vaudeville of the third or fourth class. When I was appearing
at Columbus, Ohio, I met a German, a man who had been an officer
in the Prussian Guard but had come to grief and had been forced
to emigrate.

"This man's name was Hans von Schornbeek. Like so many German
officers wh