w sensation. He
did not recognize--could not even classify it. He only knew that it was
not altogether pleasant, and that it set the warm blood tingling through
his veins.

It was not until they were sitting out in the winter garden, taking
their coffee and liqueurs, that the object of their meeting was referred
to. Then Monsieur de Founcelles drew Violet a little away from the
others, and the Marquis, with a meaning smile, took Peter Ruff's arm and
led him on one side. Monsieur de Founcelles wasted no words at all.

"Mademoiselle," he said, "Monsieur Ruff has doubtless told you that last
night I made him the offer of a great position among us."

She looked at him with twinkling eyes.

"Go on, please," she said.

"I offered him a position of great dignity--of great responsibility,"
Monsieur de Founcelles continued. "I cannot explain to you its exact
nature, but it is in connection with the most wonderful organization of
its sort which the world has ever known."

"The 'Double-Four,'" she murmured.

"Attached to the post is a princely salary and but one condition,"
Monsieur de Founcelles said, watching the girl's face. "The condition is
that Mr. Ruff remains a bachelor."

Violet nodded.

"Peter's told me all this," she remarked. "He wants me to give him up."

Monsieur de Founcelles drew a little closer to his companion. There was
a peculiar smile upon his lips.

"My dear young lady," he said softly, "forgive me if I point out to you
that with your appearance and gifts a marriage with our excellent friend
is surely not the summit of your ambitions! Here in Paris, I promise
you, here--we can do much better than that for you. You have not,
perhaps, a dot? Good! That is our affair. Give up our friend here, and
we deposit in any bank you like to name the sum of two hundred and fifty
thousand francs."

"Two hundred and fifty thousand francs!" Violet repeated, slowly.

Monsieur de Founcelles nodded.

"It is enough?" he asked.

She shook her head.

"It is not enough," she answered.

Monsieur de Founcelles raised his eyebrows.

"We do not bargain," he said coldly, "and money is not the chief thing
in the world. It is for you, then, to name a sum."

"Monsieur de Founcelles," she said, "can you tell me the amount of the
national debt of France?"

"Somewhere about nine hundred million francs, I believe," he answered.

She nodded.

"That is exactly my price," she declared.

"For giving up Peter Ruff?" he