which she accepted with assumed
shyness--and a wicked little pinch.

"I'll pay you later for the pinch!" he tossed back, softly.

She answered with an affected shrug and a wink.

"Elise _is_ remarkably pretty!" Madeline Spencer remarked when he
entered the boudoir. She was sitting up in bed, eating her rolls and
coffee--a bewildering negligee of cerise and cream heightening the
effect of her dead-white colouring and raven-black hair.

Marston drew in his breath sharply, then sighed.

"And _you_ are ravishingly beautiful, my lady," he replied.

"You like this robe?" she asked.

"I--like you; what you may wear is incidental. It merely increases the
effect of your wonderful personality."

"My good Marston!" she smiled. "What a faithful friend you are; always
seeing my few good points and being blind to my many bad."

"And being always," he added, bowing low, "your most humble and loving
servant."

"I know it--and I am very, very grateful." She put aside the tray and
languidly stretched her lithe length under the sheet. "What have you to
report, Marston?" she asked.

"I have to report, madame," said Marston, with strict formality of a
subordinate to his chief, "that I have procured the French code-book."

"Good work!" she exclaimed, sitting up sharply. "However did you manage
it?"

"By the assistance of one Jimmy-the-Snake. He visited the French Embassy
last night, and persuaded the safe to yield up the code. It would have
been better, I admit, to copy the code and then replace it, but it
wasn't possible. He had just sufficient time to grab the book and make a
get-away. Someone was coming."

"You've accomplished enough even though we don't obtain the letter" she
approved. "I shall recommend you for promotion, Marston."

She took the thin book and glanced through it until she came to the
key-words of the Blocked-Out Square--the last key-word was the one the
Count de M---- had given her. After all, the Count was not so bad; and
he was handsome; thus far dependable; and he was, seemingly at least, in
love with her. She might do worse.... Yet he was not Harleston; there
never was but one equal to Harleston, and that one was lost to her. She
shut her lips tightly and a far-away look came into her eyes. And now
Harleston, too, was lost to her; and--she lifted her hands resignedly,
and laughed a mirthless laugh. As she came back to reality, she met
Marston's curiously courteous glance with a bit of a shrug.

"