it you will at once be recognised, and
recognition means arrest. There is a limit beyond which one cannot help
a wilful woman. Take your life in your hands and go your own way, or
trust in us who are doing our best to save you."

"And what of Reginald Brott?" she asked.

"Brott?" the Prince repeated impatiently. "Who cares what becomes of
him? You have made him seem a fool, but, Lucille, to tell you the truth,
I am sorry that we did not leave this country altogether alone. There
is not the soil for intrigue here, or the possibility. Then, too, the
police service is too stolid, too inaccessible. And even our friends,
for whose aid we are here--well, you heard the Duke. The cast-iron Saxon
idiocy of the man. The aristocracy here are what they call bucolic. It
is their own fault. They have intermarried with parvenus and Americans
for generations. They are a race by themselves. We others may shake
ourselves free from them. I would work in any country of the globe for
the good of our cause, but never again in England."

Lucille shivered a little.

"I am not in the humour for argument," she declared. "If you would earn
my gratitude take that note to my husband. He is the only man I feel
sure of--whom I know can protect me."

The Prince bowed low.

"It is our farewell, Countess," he said.

"I cannot pretend," she answered, "to regret it."

Saxe Leinitzer left the room. There was a peculiar smile upon his lips
as he crossed the hall. Brott was still awaiting for him.

"Mr. Brott," he said, "the Countess is, as I feared, too agitated to see
you again for the present, or any one else. She sends you, however, this
message."

He took the folded paper from his waistcoat pocket and handed it to the
other man. Brott read it through eagerly. His eyes shone.

"She accepts the situation, then?" he exclaimed.

"Precisely! Will you pardon me, my friend, if I venture upon one other
word. Lucille is not an ordinary woman. She is not in the least like the
majority of her sex, especially, I might add, amongst us. The fact that
her husband was living would seriously influence her consideration of
any other man--as her lover. The present crisis, however, has changed
everything. I do not think that you will have cause to complain of her
lack of gratitude."

Brott walked out into the streets with the half sheet of note-paper
twisted up between his fingers. For the first time for months he was
conscious of a distinct and vivid sens