me, since your business doubtless concerns me, pray, begin;"
and Fitzgerald leaned against the mantelpiece and fumbled with the rim
of his monocle.

Maurice walked to one of the windows and perched himself on the broad
sill. He began to whistle softly:

Voici le sabre de mon pere! Tu vas le mettre a ton cote....

Beyond the window, at the edge of the forest, he saw a sentinel pacing
backward and forward. Indeed, no matter which way he looked, the
autumnal scenery had this accessory. Again, he inspected the bars. These
were comparatively new. It was about thirty feet to the court below. On
the whole, the outlook was discouraging.

"Count," said the distant relative of the house of Amerbach, "how shall
I begin?"

"I am not a diplomat, Madame," answered the Colonel. "If, however, you
wish the advice of a soldier, I should begin by asking if my lord the
Englishman has those consols about his person."

"Fie, count!" she cried, laughing; "one would say that was a prelude to
robbery."

"So they would. As for myself, I prefer violence to words. If we take
these pretty papers by violence, we shall still have left our friend
the Englishman his self-respect. And as for words, while my acquaintance
with our friend is slight, I should say that they would only be wasted
here."

The whistle from the window still rose and fell.

"Monsieur, I have it in my power to make you rich."

"I am rich," replied Fitzgerald.

"In honors?"

"Madame, the title I have is already a burden to me." Fitzgerald
laughed, which announced that the cause of the duchess was not getting
on very well. Once or twice he raised the tortoiseshell rim to his eye,
but dropped it; force of habit was difficult to overcome.

"Your father nourished a particular rancor against the late duke."

"And justly, you will admit."

"Her Highness has offered you five millions for slips of paper worth no
more than the ink which decorates them."

"And I have refused. Why? Simply because the matter does not rest with
me. You have proceeded with a high hand, Madame, or rather your duchess
has. Nothing will come of it. Had there been any possibility of my
considering your proposals, this kidnaping would have destroyed it."

She smiled. Maurice saw the smile and stopped whistling long enough to
scratch his chin, which was somewhat in need of a razor. He had
seen many women smile that way. He had learned to read it. It was an
inarticulate "perhaps."

"The rightful