and taking him by either ear, she kissed
him between the eyes. "Now, I think I'll go to bed. I've a mighty
knotty problem on hand and I've got to work it out right away."

"Can I help any more?"

"No," and she shook her head decidedly. "This is one of those odious
problems which a person has to work out alone. It reminds me of our
school examinations, where we were on honour not to ask any help. Only,"
she added, with a sigh, "this is far more serious. Good-night."

"Good-night," said her father, and watched her until the door closed
behind her. Then he turned again to his paper.

Susie, alone in her own room, sat with her head in her hands, staring
out across the moonlit beach. Away in the distance, she could see the
little breakers washing white upon the sand; to the left stretched the
long, brilliant promenade of the Digue, ending in the glare of light
which marked the Casino.

"The peace of Europe!" she murmured.

"The peace of Europe! I wonder if he was merely trying to frighten me?"

And she shivered a little at the remembrance of Lord Vernon's words, as
she arose to go to bed.

CHAPTER XVI

A Prince and His Ideals

By what process of telepathy the Dowager Duchess of Markheim, dwelling
in one corner of that gloomy old fortress which had sheltered so many
generations of the family, learned of the danger threatening her nephew
it would be impossible to say. She had been skilled for many years in
telling which way the wind was blowing; nay, more, in foreseeing from
which quarter it would presently blow; so perhaps the two or three
casual references to the American girls which she had gleaned from the
letters which the Prince dutifully wrote her had been enough to awaken
her suspicions. Or, it may be, that some one of the many persons at
Weet-sur-Mer who had observed with interest the Prince's comings and
goings, deemed it a duty to society to send the duchess a discreet word
of warning.

Any one who knew the duchess knew also that a single word would be
all-sufficient. Her reputation for worldly astuteness surpassed that of
any other old woman in Europe, though it was, perhaps, not altogether
deserved. Forty years before, she had been a healthy and happy girl,
whose experience of the world had been confined to the family estate
near Gemuenden. And the estate was a small one, for the family, though of
blood the bluest, was very poor.

One tragedy had marked her early girlhood. She was curled up