e are passing through
a quiet time, necessitated by the mortal illness of Madame. You will be
able to spend the next few weeks in getting used to your new position.
You will have a great many callers, inspired by us, who will see that
you make the right acquaintances and that you join the right clubs. At
the same time, let me warn you always to be ready. There is trouble
brooding just now all over Europe. In one way or another we may become
involved at any moment. The whole machinery of our society will be
explained to you by your secretary. You will find him already installed
at Merton House. A glass of wine, Baron, before you leave?"

Peter Ruff glanced at the clock.

"There are my things to pack," he began.

Sogrange smiled.

"Your valet is already on the front seat of the automobile which is
waiting," he remarked. "You will find him attentive and trustworthy. The
clothes which you brought with you we have taken the liberty of
dispensing with. You will find others in your trunk, and at Merton House
you can send for any tailor you choose. One toast, Baron. We drink to
the Double Four--to the great cause!"

There was a murmur of voices. Sogrange lifted once more his glass.

"May Peter Ruff rest in peace!" he said. "We drink to his ashes. We
drink long life and prosperity to the Baron de Grost!"

* * * * *

The Marquis alone attended his guest to the station. They walked up and
down the long platform of the Gare du Nord, Sogrange talking most of the
time in an undertone, for there were many things which he yet had to
explain. There came a time, however, when his grip upon his companion's
arm suddenly tightened. They were passing a somewhat noticeable little
group--a tall, fair man, with close-shaven hair and military moustache,
dressed in an English travelling suit and Homburg hat, and by his side a
very brilliant young woman, whose dark eyes, powdered face, and
marvellous toilette rendered her a trifle conspicuous. In the background
were a couple of servants.

"The Count von Hern-Bernadine!" the Marquis whispered.

Peter glanced at him for a moment as they passed.

"Bernadine, without a doubt!" he exclaimed. "And his companion?"

"Mademoiselle Delucie, from the _Comedie Francaise_," the Marquis
replied. "It is just like Bernadine to bring her here. He likes to
parade the ostensible cause for his visit to Paris. It is all bluff. He
cares little for the ladies of the theatre,