is morning, Prince?" he asked.

"Not yet," the latter replied. "Is there news, then?"

Selingman pointed to the closed door. "You have spoken for long
with her?"

"Naturally," the Prince assented. "She is a confidential friend of the
Emperor. She has been entrusted for the last two years with all the
private dispatches between Vienna and Berlin."

"In your letters you will find news," Selingman declared. "She is
pronounced suspect. She is under my care at this moment. A report was
brought to me half an hour ago that she was here. I came on at once
myself. I trust that I am in time?"

The Prince stood quite silent for a moment.

"Fortunately," he answered coolly, "I have told her nothing."

CHAPTER XVIII

As Norgate entered the premises of Selingman, Horsfal and Company a
little later on the same morning he looked around him in some surprise.
He had expected to find a deserted warehouse--probably only an office. He
saw instead all the evidences of a thriving and prosperous business.
Drays were coming and going from the busy door. Crates were piled up to
the ceiling, clerks with notebooks in their hands passed continually back
and forth. A small boy in a crowded office accepted his card and
disappeared. In a few minutes he led Norgate into a waiting-room and
handed him a paper.

"Mr. Selingman is engaged with a buyer for a few moments, sir," he
reported. "He will see you presently."

Norgate looked through the windows out into the warehouse. There was no
doubt whatever that this was a genuine and considerable trading concern.
Presently the door of the inner office opened, and he heard Mr.
Selingman's hearty tones.

"You have done well for yourself and well for your firm, sir," he was
saying. "There is no one in Germany or in the world who can produce
crockery at the price we do. They will give you a confirmation of the
order in the office. Ah! my young friend," he went on, turning to
Norgate, "you have kept your word, then. You are not a customer, but you
may walk in. I shall make no money out of you, but we will talk
together."

Norgate passed on into a comfortably furnished office, a little redolent
of cigar smoke. Selingman bit off the end of a cigar and pushed the box
towards his visitor.

"Try one of these," he invited. "German made, but Havana
tobacco--mild as milk."

"Thank you," Norgate answered. "I don't smoke cigars in the morning. I'll
have a cigarette, if I may."

"As you will. Wha