rd to throw away this opportunity which chance
has placed in my hands. I will be reasonable, however--I will not ask
too much--a hundred thousand francs--"

"Tellier," Collins interrupted, with a gesture of weariness, "I have not
the least idea what you mean. But I do know that you have been hoaxed,
that you are the victim of some deception, that somebody is making a
fool of you. A hundred thousand francs! And for that note! Why, man, you
are mad or very, very drunk! We don't want the note. We have no concern
in it!"

"No concern in it!" shrieked Tellier. "When it is written by Lord
Vernon!"

"Lord Vernon did not write it," retorted Collins, coolly.

"I saw it--with my own eyes I saw it!"

"Then your eyes deceived you. Evidently you are not acquainted with Lord
Vernon's writing, my friend. Shall I show you a sample? Wait."

He went to a desk, got out a despatch-box, unlocked it, and ran rapidly
through its contents, while Tellier watched him with bloodshot eyes.

"This will do," Collins said, at last. "A note to Monsieur Delcasse,
with which you are perhaps familiar, since it has recently been made
public. Look at it."

Tellier almost snatched it--one glance was enough. There was absolutely
no resemblance between that tall, angular hand and the writing of the
note. He looked at the signature, at the seal--there could be no
doubting them. His lips were quivering, his fat cheeks hanging flaccid,
as he handed the paper back.

"You are playing with me," he said, thickly. "What I have seen, I have
seen. What I know, I know. You cannot trick me. I will go to the Prince
of Markeld--to Prince Ferdinand himself--"

"To whomever you please," interrupted Collins, "only go at once," and
he snatched open the door.

Tellier hesitated an instant, glanced at the other's face, and went.

And Collins, closing the door behind him, mopped the perspiration from
his forehead.

"Well done, my friend," he said; "exceedingly well done!"

And with that, he turned back to the inner room.

* * * * *

"Dad," began Susie Rushford, that evening, gently but firmly taking away
the paper over which her father was engaged, "I wish you would devote
that massive brain of yours to this Schloshold-Markheim muddle for a few
moments, and give me the benefit. It's quite beyond me, and I'm nearly
worried to death over it. I want your advice. Now, in the first place,
why should Lord Vernon play off sick? It seems