d.

"It is _you_ I want for mine," he answered. "When am I to have you?
Don't keep me waiting long, my darling. I'm nothing without you."

"I don't want to keep you waiting," I told him. And indeed I longed to
be his wife--his, in spite of Godensky; his, till death us should part.

He took me in his arms, and then, when I had promised to marry him as
soon as a marriage could be arranged, our talk drifted back to the
morning, and the note I had written, telling him that a pretty American
girl had found the diamonds.

"She's engaged to marry Ivor Dundas, an old friend of mine--the poor
fellow so stupidly accused of murder," I explained. "But of course he is
innocent. Of course he'll be discharged without a blot upon his name.
They're tremendously in love with each other, almost as much as you and
I!"

"You didn't tell me about the love affair in your note," said Raoul.
"You spoke only of the girl, and the coincidence of her driving past
your house, after I went in."

"There wasn't time for more in that famous communication!" I laughed.

Raoul echoed me. "It came rather too near being famous, by the way," he
said. "Just after I had found it in the safe--where you would put it,
you witch!--a man came in with an order from the President to copy a
clause in a new treaty which is kept there."

"What treaty?" I asked, with a leap of the heart.

"Oh, one between France, Japan and Russia. But that isn't the point."
(Ah, _was_ it not, if he had known?) The thing is, it would have been
rather awkward, wouldn't it? if I hadn't got your note out of the safe
before the man came in, as he never took his eyes off me, or out of the
open safe, for a second."

"Thank God I wasn't too late!" I stammered, before I could keep back the
rushing words. "You mean, thank God he wasn't sooner, don't you,
darling?" amended Raoul.

"Yes, of course. How stupid I am!" I murmured.

All along, then, Godensky had meant to get my promise and deceive me,
for I had not even sent my note of defiance when this trick was played.
Had the treaty been missing, and Raoul disgraced, Godensky would no
doubt have vowed to me--if I'd lived to hear his vows--that he had had
no hand in the discovery. Fear of the terrible man who had so nearly
beaten me in the game made me quiver even now. "You see," I went on, "I
can think of nothing but you, and my love for you. You'll never be
jealous and make me miserable again, will you, no matter what Count
Godensky o