nt to certain
governments--why it is impossible that you be permitted to deliver
them to the Princess Mistchenka----"

"Where did _you_ ever hear of _her_!" he demanded in astonishment.

The girl smiled:

"Dear Mr. Neeland, I know the Princess Mistchenka better, perhaps,
than you do."

"Do you?"

"Indeed I do. What do you know about her? Nothing at all except that
she is handsome, attractive, cultivated, amusing, and apparently
wealthy.

"You know her as a traveller, a patroness of music and the fine
arts--as a devotee of literature, as a graceful hostess, and an
amiable friend who gives promising young artists letters of
introduction to publishers who are in a position to offer them
employment."

That this girl should know so much about the Princess Mistchenka and
about his own relations with her amazed Neeland. He did not pretend to
account for it; he did not try; he sat silent, serious, and surprised,
looking into the pretty and almost smiling face of a girl who
apparently had been responsible for three separate attempts to kill
him--perhaps even a fourth attempt; and who now sat beside him talking
in a soft and agreeable voice about matters concerning which he had
never dreamed she had heard.

For a few moments she sat silent, observing in his changing expression
the effects of what she had said to him. Then, with a smile:

"Ask me whatever questions you desire to ask, Mr. Neeland. I shall do
my best to answer them."

"Very well," he said bluntly; "how do you happen to know so much about
me?"

"I know something about the friends of the Princess Mistchenka. I have
to."

"Did you know who I was there in the house at Brookhollow?"

"No."

"When, then?"

"When you yourself told me your name, I recognised it."

"I surprised you by interrupting you in Brookhollow?"

"Yes."

"You expected no interruption?"

"None."

"How did you happen to go there? Where did you ever hear of the
olive-wood box?"

"I had advices by cable from abroad--directions to go to Brookhollow
and secure the box."

"Then somebody must be watching the Princess Mistchenka."

"Of course," she said simply.

"Why 'of course'?"

"Mr. Neeland, the Princess Mistchenka and her youthful _protegee_,
Miss Carew----"

"_What!!!_"

The girl smiled wearily:

"Really," she said, "you are such a boy to be mixed in with matters of
this colour. I think that's the reason you have defeated us--the
trained fencer dreads a left-han