to be married in a few months to a man I do not care for one
little bit, and it seems to me that that will be the end of my life. I
want you to marry Isobel, and I hope you will both be very
happy--and--will you please kiss me once? I am Isobel's cousin, you
know."

I leaned forward and touched her lips. Then I grasped her hands warmly.

"You are very, very kind," I said gratefully, "and you can't think how
much happier you have made me feel. If only--you were not a Princess!"

She flitted away into the darkness with a little broken laugh. She
passed me half an hour later in the Customs' house with a languid
impassive stare which even her mother could not have excelled.

CHAPTER III

Feurgeres looked at me in surprise.

"What have you been doing to yourself?" he exclaimed. "Is the fresh air
so wonderful a tonic, or have you been asleep and dreaming of Paradise?"

I laughed.

"The sea air was well enough," I answered, "but I have been having a
most interesting conversation."

"With whom?" he asked.

"The Princess Adelaide!"

He drew a little closer to me.

"You are serious?"

"Undoubtedly. Listen!"

Then I told him of my conversation with Isobel's cousin, excepting the
last episode. His gratification was scarcely equal to mine. He was a
little thoughtful for some time afterwards. I am sure he felt that I had
been indiscreet.

"The Princess Adelaide," I said, "will not betray us. I am sure of that.
She will tell her mother nothing."

"These Waldenburgs," he answered gravely, "are a crafty race. It is in
their blood. They cannot help it."

"Isobel is a Waldenburg," I reminded him.

"She is her mother's daughter," he said. "There is always one alien
temperament in a family."

"In this case," I declared, "two!"

He shrugged his shoulders.

"We shall soon know," he said, "whether this young lady is honest or
not. A man will meet us at Paris with an exact record of the doings of
the Archduchess and her party. We shall know then where Isobel is. If
the address is the same as that given you by the Princess Adelaide, I
will believe in her."

"But not till then?" I remarked, smiling.

"Not till then!" he assented.

Before we left Calais, Feurgeres sent more telegrams, and for an hour
afterwards he sat opposite to me with wide-open eyes, seeing nothing, as
was very evident, save the images created by his own thoughts. As we
reached Amiens, however, he spoke to me.

"You had better try and