e matter of that,
Baron, why else should you be here now? Why else should anybody be here
now? It is even an excuse for Struboff's presence."

"I need no excuse for being in my own home," said Struboff, and he
gulped down his liquor.

Wetter sprang up and seized him by the arm.

"You are becoming fatter and fatter and fatter. Presently you will be
round, quite round; they'll make a drum of you, and I'll beat you in the
orchestra while madame sings divinely on the boards. Come and see if we
can possibly avoid this thing," and he led him off to the sofa. There
they began to talk, Wetter suddenly dropping his burlesque and allowing
a quiet, earnest manner to succeed his last outburst. I caught some
mention of thousands of francs; surely there must be a bond of interest,
or Wetter would have been turned out before now.

Coralie moved toward the other end of the room, which was long, although
narrow. I followed her. As she sat down she remarked:

"He has lent Struboff twenty thousand francs; but for that I must have
sung before I was ready."

The situation seemed a little clearer.

"But he is curious," she pursued, fixing a patiently speculative eye on
Wetter. "You would say that he was fond of me?"

"It is a possible reason for his presence."

"He doesn't show it," said she, with a shrug.

I understood that little point in Wetter's code; besides, his humour
seemed just now too bitter for love-making. If Coralie felt any
resentment, it did not go very deep. She turned her eyes from Wetter to
my face.

"You're going to be married very soon?" she said.

"In a month," said I. "I'm having my last fling. You perceived our high
spirits?"

"I've seen her picture. She's pretty. And I've seen the Countess von
Sempach."

"You know about her?"

"Have you forgotten that you used to speak of her? Ah, yes, you've
forgotten all that you used to say! The Countess is still handsome."

"What of that? So are you."

"True, it doesn't matter much," Coralie admitted. "Does your Princess
love you?"

"Don't you love your husband?"

A faint slow smile bent her lips as she glanced at Struboff--himself and
his locket.

"Nobody acts without a motive," said I. "Not even in marrying."

The bitterness that found expression in this little sneer elicited no
sympathetic response from Coralie. I was obliged to conclude that she
considered her marriage a success; at least that it was doing what she
had expected from it. At this mom