ent to Russia."

Alicia uttered a cry of protest. Sir Justin, ex-diplomatist, author of
a heavy volume of Victorian reminiscences, and confidant of many public
personages, was one of her mother's oldest friends; but to her he was
only one degree less formidable than the Countess, and quite the last
person she would have chosen for consultation upon this, or indeed upon
any other subject.

"I am not going to intrust my husband's secrets to him!" she exclaimed.

"I am," replied the Countess.

"But I won't allow it! Rudolph would be----"

"Rudolph has only himself to blame. My dear Alicia, you can trust Sir
Justin implicitly. When my child's happiness is at stake I would consult
no one who was not discretion itself. I am very glad I thought of him."

The Baroness burst into tears.

"My child, my child!" said her mother compassionately. "The world is no
Garden of Eden, however much we may all try to make it so."

"You--you don't se--seem to be trying now, mamma."

"May Heaven forgive you, my darling," pronounced the Countess piously.

CHAPTER XIV

"Sir Justin," said the Countess firmly, "please tell my daughter exactly
what you have discovered."

Sir Justin Wallingford sat in the drawing-room at Belgrave Square with
one of these ladies on either side of him. He was a tall, gaunt man
with a grizzled black beard, a long nose, and such a formidably solemn
expression that ambitious parents were in the habit of wishing that
their offspring might some day be as wise as Sir Justin Wallingford
looked. His fund of information was prodigious, while his reasoning
powers were so remarkable that he had never been known to commit the
slightest action without furnishing a full and adequate explanation of
his conduct. Thus the discrimination shown by the Countess in choosing
him to restore a lady's peace of mind will at once be apparent.

"The results of my inquiries," he pronounced, "have been on the whole
of a negative nature. If this mission on which the Baron von Blitzenberg
professes to be employed is in fact of an unusually delicate nature,
it is just conceivable that the answer I received from Prince
Gommell-Kinchen, when I sounded him at the Khalifa's luncheon, may have
been intended merely to throw dust in my eyes. At the same time, his
highness appeared to speak with the candor of a man who has partaken,
not excessively, you understand, but I may say freely, of the pleasures
of the table."

He looked steadily