s she like?"

Saunders gave the description: "Dark, fairly stout, white hair, bad
English, piercing black eyes, sixty years old, upper lip showing a
growth of hair, slight wart on the right side of the nose."

"Madam Neuville!"

"So she's here with her, is she? I suspected that, but I have never
seen the old lady."

"She doesn't go out much."

"Are you satisfied now, Mr. Griffin?"

"As to identity, yes. Now, I will ask the questions. I have a right,
haven't I, Saunders?"

Saunders nodded.

"Why did the Duchess run away?"

Saunders hesitated before he answered. "I hate to tell you that.
Don't ask."

"But I _do_ ask."

"Well, you may have a right to know. There was a man, that's why."

Mark wondered at his own self-control.

"Who was he?"

"An army officer, attached to the Italian embassy at her father's
court. But, look here, Griffin, there was no scandal about it. She
just fell in love with him, that's all. I was here watching for _him_.
I thought, for a while, that _you_ might be the man, though the
descriptions did not tally. I was taking no chances. If I saw him, my
business was to telegraph to a certain Ministry at Washington; that was
all."

"And they would--"

"I don't know. Those fellows have ways I can't fathom. I don't know
what they would do. They probably have their plans laid. It's evident
that they don't want her to meet him. I can't arrest her, and neither
can they; but they certainly could do for him if they wanted to. It
would be easier to bring her back, then, without scandal or publicity.
Now you've got all I know. What are you going to do?"

"I'm afraid," Mark spoke with an effort, "I'm afraid that I don't know
just what to do, Saunders. You see, I happen to love her."

"But what about the other man?"

"Well, Saunders, I find it very hard to believe that."

"Griffin," said Saunders, "I've told you a lot, because I know you are
a gentleman, and because you have a right to know. I make only one
request of you: please don't speak of this."

"I appreciate the confidence, Saunders. My word is given."

"Think this thing over, Griffin. You're the right stuff. I don't
blame you for wanting her. You know better than I if she's right, and
if you ever can have her."

Mark went back to his room. On his table lay a note. He opened it and
read:

"My dear Mark: The Bishop is coming this morning to confirm the little
class of tots who received their First