his. The letters and papers I took from him."

Schmidt had covered his face with his hands for a moment. His shoulders
were heaving.

"My beloved chief!" he sobbed. "My dear devoted master! Killed by that
drunken Englishman!"

"Not so drunk as you fancied him," Dominey said coolly, "not so far gone
in his course of dissipation but that he was able to pull himself up
when the great incentive came."

The Princess looked from one to the other of the two men. Seaman had
still the appearance of a man struggling to extricate himself from some
sort of nightmare.

"My first and only suspicion," he faltered, "was that night when Wolff
disappeared!"

"Wolff's coming was rather a tragedy," Dominey admitted. "Fortunately, I
had a secret service man in the house who was able to dispose of him."

"It was you who planned his disappearance?" Seaman gasped.

"Naturally," Dominey replied. "He knew the truth and was trying all the
time to communicate with you."

"And the money?" Seaman continued, blinking rapidly. "One hundred
thousand pounds, and more?"

"I understood that was a gift," Dominey replied. "If the German Secret
Service, however, cares to formulate a claim and sue me--"

The Princess suddenly interrupted. Her eyes seemed on fire.

"What are you, you two?" she cried, stretching out her hands towards
Schmidt and Seaman. "Are you lumps of earth--clods--creatures without
courage and intelligence? You can let him stand there--the Englishman
who has murdered my lover, who has befooled you? You let him stand there
and mock you, and you do and say nothing! Is his life a sacred thing?
Has he none of your secrets in his charge?"

"The great God above us!" Seaman groaned, with a sudden white horror in
his face. "He has the Prince's memoirs! He has the Kaiser's map!"

"On the contrary," Dominey replied, "both are deposited at the Foreign
Office. We hope to find them very useful a little later on."

Seaman sprang forward like a tiger and went down in a heap as he almost
threw himself upon Dominey's out-flung fist. Schmidt came stealing
across the room, and from underneath his cuff something gleamed.

"You are two to one!" the Princess cried passionately, as both
assailants hesitated. "I would to God that I had a weapon, or that I
were a man!"

"My dear Princess," a good-humoured voice remarked from the window,
"four to two the other way, I think, what?"

Eddy Pelham, his hands in his pockets, but a very alert gleam i