ver idea," he observed shrewdly, "'pon my
word, that's bright! That's very bright! I should like to
compliment the man who thought of that!"

"Then you may address your compliments to me, Chief," said
Strangwise.

The Chief turned and looked at him.

"I've met many of your people in my time, Strangwise," he said,
"but I don't know you! Who are you?"

Strangwise laughed.

"Ask Nur-el-Din," he said, "that is to say, if you haven't shot
her yet!"

"And if we have?" asked the Chief.

Desmond sprang tip.

"It isn't possible!" he cried. "Why, the woman's a victim, not a
principal! Chief..."

"What if we have?" asked the Chief again.

A curious change had come over the prisoner. His jaunty air had
left him and there was an apprehensive look in his eyes.

"I would have saved her if I could have," Strangwise said, "but
she played me false over the jewel. She imperiled the success of
my mission. You English have no idea of discipline. To us
Prussian officers an order stands above everything else. There is
nothing we would not sacrifice to obey our orders. And my order
was to recover the Star of Poland for His Imperial Highness the
Crown Prince, Lieutenant Colonel in the Regiment to which I have
the honor to belong, the First Regiment of Prussian Foot Guards.
But Nur-el-Din plotted with our friend here and with that little
fool upstairs to upset my plans, and I had no mercy on her. I
planted those documents in her dress--or rather Bellward did--to
draw suspicion away from me. I thought you English would be too
flabby to execute a woman; but I reckoned on you putting the girl
away for some years to come. I would have shot her as I shot Rass
if..." His voice trembled and he was silent.

"If what?" asked the Chief.

"If she hadn't been my wife," said Strangwise.

CHAPTER XXXI. THE 100,000 KIT

It was a clear, crisp morning with a sparkle of frost on jetty
and breakwater. The English Channel stretched flashing like a
living sheet of glass to the filmy line marking the coast of
France, as serene and beautiful in its calm as it is savage and
cruel in its anger. It was high tide; but only a gentle murmur
came from the little waves that idly beat upon the shore in front
of the bungalow.

A girl lay in a deck chair on the verandah, well wrapped up
against the eager air. But the fresh breeze would not be denied
and, foiled by the nurse's vigilance of its intents against the
patient, it revenged itself by blowing