in her lap, stared absently into its
green eyes where it lay playfully patting the rags that hung from her
torn bodice.

Perhaps she was thinking of the dead man where he lay in the crowded
cafe--the dead man who had confronted her with bloodshot eyes and
lifted pistol--whose voice, thick with rage, had denounced her--whose
stammering, untaught tongue stumbled over the foreign words with which
he meant to send her to her death--this dead man who once had been
_her_ man--long ago--very, very long ago when there was no bitterness
in life, no pain, no treachery--when life was young in the Western
World, and Fate gaily beckoned her, wearing a smiling mask and crowned
with flowers.

"I hope," remarked the Princess Mistchenka, "that it is sufficiently
early in the morning for you to escape observation, James."

"I'm a scandal; I know it," he admitted, as the car swung into the rue
Soleil d'Or.

The Princess turned to the drooping girl beside her and laid a gloved
hand lightly on her shoulder.

"My dear," she said gently, "there is only one chance for you, and if
we let it pass it will not come again--under military law."

Ilse lifted her head, held it high, even tilted back a little.

The Princess said:

"Twenty-four hours will be given for all Germans to leave France.
But--you took your nationality from the man you married. You are
American."

The girl flushed painfully:

"I do not care to take shelter under his name," she said.

"It is the only way. And you must get to the coast in my car. There is
no time to lose. Every vehicle, private and public, will be seized for
military uses this morning. Every train will be crowded; every foot of
room occupied on the Channel boats. There is only one thing for you to
do--travel with me to Havre as my American maid."

"Madame--would you do that--for me?"

"Why, I've got to," said the Princess Mistchenka with a shrug. "I am
not a barbarian to leave you to a firing squad, I hope."

The car had stopped; the chauffeur descended and came around to open
the door.

"Caron," said the Princess, "no servants are stirring yet. Take my
key, find a cloak and bring it out--and a coat for Monsieur
Neeland--the one that Captain Sengoun left the other evening. Have you
plenty of gasoline?"

"Plenty, madame."

"Good. We leave for Havre in five minutes. Bring the cloak and coat
quickly."

The chauffeur hastened to the door, unlocked it, disappeared, then
came out carrying a vol