hung from his neck. His passion for
clothes was certainly amply ministered to by the exigencies of his new
position. Once more he read those last few words of this unexpectedly
received despatch, read them with a frown upon his forehead and the
light of trouble in his eyes. For three months he had done nothing but
live the life of an ordinary man of fashion and wealth. His first task,
for which, to tell the truth, he had been anxiously waiting, was here
before him, and he found it little to his liking. Again, he read slowly
to himself the last paragraph of Sogrange's.

As ever, dear friend, one of the greatest sayings which the men of my
race have ever perpetrated once more justifies itself--"Cherchez la
femme!" Of Monsieur we have no manner of doubt. We have tested him in
every way. And to all appearance Madame should also be above suspicion.
Yet those things of which I have spoken have happened. For two hours
this morning I was closeted with Picon here. Very reluctantly he has
placed the matter in my hands. I pass it on to you. It is your first
undertaking, cher Baron, and I wish you bon fortune. A man of gallantry,
as I know you are, you may regret that it should be a woman, and a
beautiful woman, too, against whom the finger must be pointed. Yet,
after all, the fates are strong and the task is yours.

SOGRANGE.

The music from the reception rooms grew louder and more insistent.
Peter rose to his feet, and moving to the fireplace, struck a match
and carefully destroyed the letter which he had been reading. Then he
straightened himself, glanced for a moment at the mirror, and left the
room to join his guests.

"Monsieur le Baron jests," the lady murmured.

The Baron de Grost shook his head.

"Indeed, no, Madame!" he answered earnestly. "France has offered us
nothing more delightful in the whole history of our entente than the
loan of yourself and your brilliant husband. Monsieur de Lamborne makes
history among us politically, while Madame--"

The Baron sighed, and his companion leaned a little towards him; her
dark eyes were full of sentimental regard.

"Yes?" she murmured. "Continue. It is my wish."

"I am the good friend of Monsieur de Lamborne," the Baron said, and in
his tone there seemed to lurk some far-away touch of regret, "yet Madame
knows that her conquests here have been many."

The Ambassador's wife fanned herself and remained silent for a moment,
a faint smile playing at the corners of he