it," he smiled--"whenever you convince me, or I
ascertain, that the letter does not concern directly or indirectly the
diplomatic affairs of the United States. You forget that was the
concluding stipulation, Mrs. Clephane. Meanwhile the letter will not,
you may feel assured, fall into the possession of the party who
attempted to steal it from you."

"What does it all mean?" she asked, leaning forward. "Who beside France
are the parties concerned?"

"It means that some nation is ready to take desperate chances to prevent
your letter from reaching the French Ambassador. What actuates it,
whether to learn its contents or to prevent its present delivery, I
naturally do not know." Then he laughed. "Would it interest you very
much to learn, Mrs. Clephane, that I was visited last night by three
men, who tried, at the point of the revolver, to force the letter from
me?"

"You surely don't mean it!" she exclaimed.

And with this exclamation the last doubt in Harleston's mind of Mrs.
Clephane's having aught to do with the night attack vanished--and
having acquitted her in that respect, there was scarcely any question as
to the sincerity and truth of her tale.

As it has been remarked previously, Mrs. Clephane was very good to look
at--and what is more to the point with Harleston, she looked back.

"I had all sorts of adventures, beginning with the cab of the sleeping
horse, three crushed roses, a bit of lace, and a letter," he laughed;
"and the adventures haven't yet ended, and they grow more interesting as
they progress."

"They didn't get the letter?" she asked quickly.

"They got nothing but the trouble of getting nothing," he replied.

"Where is the letter now, Mr. Harleston--is it safe from them?"

There was a note of concern in her voice, and it puzzled him. What else
did she know--or didn't she know anything? Was it only his habit in
diplomatic affairs to doubt everything that was not undoubtable.

"The letter," he replied, "is with the expert of the State Department
for translation."

"What language is it in?" she demanded.

"Cipher language--and a particularly difficult cipher it is. Can you
help us out, Mrs. Clephane?"

"I can't, Mr. Harleston; I don't know anything about ciphers. And I told
you the whole truth when I said that I neither knew what the envelope
contained nor its purpose. What disturbs me is how to explain to the
French Ambassador the loss of the letter."

"Tell him the exact truth," s