from the group surrounding the Countess.

"Merci, monsieur, you flatter me—it is the dress attracts you."

"No; it is the sparkle of your eyes behind that envious mask, the grace of each gesture, the soul of music in your voice, the poetry in every motion that proclaims you the ideal 'Carmen.'"

"Save for one thing: a cigarette, s'il vous plait, monsieur," and I extended my hand.

Slowly, even as though he realized that he was being drawn into a trap, he took one of them from his pocket and hesitatingly handed it to me.

Half suspiciously, half in a fashion of tenderness, he held a match to the cigarette, and then, almost before the paper had caught, it dropped through my fingers to the ground; and I, with a laugh at my carelessness, placed my heel upon it and edged it beneath my skirt.

My shoe pressed upon it lightly, my lips smiled apologetically, yet murmured, "Merci, monsieur," as I awaited another to replace it.

I saw his features tighten as his eyes followed my movements, yet what could he do? Realizing that I had discovered him, and I could not but feel that he knew it, he gave me another, and I lighted it.

For a second we measured glances, and I knew that he fathomed my plans as truly as I did his.

"You are a clever little devil!" he said, with almost a touch of appreciation.

"Monsieur!"

"You have my cigarette under your shoe, but what of that? In a minute I shall offer you my arm, you will take it, we shall go to the ballroom and dance the cotillion."

"You are sure?"

"Perfectly. I have only to raise my voice and say 'The air is cool,' and the Countess will understand; she will rejoin us, and that being so, a lady cannot search for a half-burned cigarette. You have the desire of your quest within your reach, and yet as far removed as the north is from the south."

I looked disdainfully at him and calmly smoked.

"You are too clever to waste yourself upon such pettiness," he whispered. "In Russia I would find you a sphere worthy of your talents, and make you a duchess."

"I fail to understand, monsieur."

He leaned forward until his eyes looked straight into mine, and spoke with deliberate emphasis.

"I am going to stoop and take from under your chair a cigarette, and you must perforce permit me."

"Why?"

"Because if you attempted to resist I should prevent it. See, I slowly stoop to regain my own."

He bent as he spoke, and then, as the inspiration flashed upon me, my hands went swiftly to my throat, and with a sudden clutch I snapped my necklace, and a shower of pearls scattered upon the balcony.

"My pearls!" I cried in dismay, and brushing past him to save them as they fell, I picked up the cigarette from beneath my skirt and looked mockingly into his face.

"You are a clever little devil!" he said, with chagrined appreciation.

I smiled, for the key to the cipher was safe in my possession.

But men count for nothing in such matters, for men can even hold admiration for a victorious enemy—here there was a woman to deal with.

While the gallants who had clustered around the Countess were collecting my truant pearls, she walked across and glared into my face with eyes that blazed with fury.

In passion she tore the mask from her face, and so, because she was pleased to confess herself, I accepted the challenge and removed mine. She forgot her civilization, her breeding, her position, everything, and dropped back into the barbarous language of her ancestors.

"If I only had you in Russia!" she gasped, her lips almost touching my ear. "I'd have you flogged for this; I'd have your lying tongue torn out, and those shoulders you're so proud of branded 'Spy,' God! If I had you in Russia!"

"And yet," I murmured, "methinks these charms of Russia must be enjoyed by you alone, and swiftly, too, for surely—his Excellency will resign at once."

"God!" she cried, "if I had you in Russia!"

I turned away, but stole a backward glance at her as she stood, her whole body trembling, her fingers clutching the balustrade to support her quivering figure, and then he came forward and handed me my pearls.

It was the third time he had said it, and there was a crescendo of meaning in the phrase he whispered:

"You are a clever little devil!"

LE DIABLE

We were a gathering of diplomacy, science, and beauty. Monsieur Roché, the Premier, the first, Monsieur Vicenne, the Minister of Marine, the second, and it was I who completed the trio.

"I have offered five million francs!" Monsieur Vicenne exclaimed, with a gesture as though he had mentioned the total of the Treasury of the Republic.

"But that is not so very much, monsieur," I ventured to suggest, "if the invention be all that is pretended for it."

"Five million francs!" he ejaculated again, with wide-opened eyes, until I feared that his eyebrows would altogether disappear into his bushy hair.

"It is the method of calculating that is at fault," I said. "Five million francs. It sounds stupendous; but what is it? In Napoleons, merely two hundred and fifty thousand; in English sovereigns, only two hundred thousand. What do you really estimate the invention to be worth?"

"It is priceless. Mon Dieu! Imagine." The dear man always spoke in this staccato manner. "A boat—a submarine boat. Sixty knots an hour. Mon Dieu! If we—if France could possess it. England! Bah!" He snapped his fingers disdainfully.

"And all for five million francs?"

"I would pay ten. Nom de Diable! Fifteen—twenty."

"Ah!" I smiled.

Monsieur Roché laid his long fingers upon my arm.

"A commission, eh, ma chère?"

"Mercy, no! What do I know of such affairs?"

"Twenty million francs. Mon Dieu! If you could buy for ten, sell for twenty—eh?" sharply interjected Monsieur Vicenne.

Monsieur Roché tapped him upon the shoulder, somewhat irritably.

"Madame is the loveliest woman in Paris," he observed.

The Minister of Marine interrupted.

"You talk commonplaces," he cried. "Tell me next that the sun is shining."

And I was constrained to rise and bow my acknowledgments for the twin compliment.

"But she is one of the richest," Monsieur Roché continued. "Money can be no inducement."

"To serve France?" Monsieur Vicenne hazarded.

"And the love of adventure," I added. "Monsieur, I will do my best. If I am successful, I will claim as my reward that the first boat built upon this invention shall be named after me."

"L'Incomparable," suggested M. Vicenne.

"Merci, monsieur, mais non, 'L'Aide.'"

I had started on my journey before I had seriously considered what a mad-brained scheme I had taken in hand. I, who knew nothing of such things, was about to attempt to persuade where the whole diplomatic tact of French administrators had failed. I was to be a bidder for this wonderful boat that had startled the world; appearing to-day at Ostend, to-morrow a thousand miles away, and all the power in the hands of a man who was deaf to entreaty, impervious to persuasion.

The experts of the navy had pleaded to be allowed to inspect the boat. His answer had been, "Keep level with it, and watch."

"Keep level, and watch"—it was a pleasant satire. England's latest toy, the Turbina, steamed only thirty-four knots an hour, and there were those who swore that this submarine boat at times got near to sixty.

Still the die was cast. I was to obtain, somehow, an interview with the inventor, who was so unlike others of his species that he invented for his own satisfaction, and not to sell his discovery. I was to offer whatever I liked. And if, as was probable, he refused, try and induce him to take me for a cruise, and learn what I could as fortune favored me.

It was as foolish a scheme for them to suggest as for me to undertake; but