aved his country. I shouldn't
wonder in the least if you weren't decorated when you get home. Think of
all these things--hard!"

"All right!" Guy answered. "Go ahead!"

"You never killed any one. The duel was a fake. You were--not exactly
sober. That was entirely our fault, and we had to invent some plan to
induce you to come into hiding peacefully. _Voila tout!_ It is
forgiven?"

Guy laughed a great laugh of relief.

"Rather!" he exclaimed. "What an ass I must have seemed, asking that old
Johnny for a pardon."

The Vicomte smiled.

"The old Johnny, Guy, was the President of France. He wanted to know
afterwards what the devil you meant."

Guy rose to his feet.

"If you tell me anything else," he said, "I shall want to punch your
head."

The Vicomte laughed.

"Come," he said, "I will return you to your adorable sister!"

CHAPTER XV

A MERRY MEETING

Monsieur Albert was not often surprised, and still less often did he
show it. The party, however, who trooped cheerily into his little
restaurant at something after midnight on this particular morning,
succeeded in placing him at a disadvantage.

First there was the Vicomte de Bergillac, one of his most important and
influential patrons for many reasons, whose presence alone was more than
sufficient guarantee for whoever might follow. Then there was the
Marquise de St. Ethol, one of the _haute noblesse_, to welcome whom was
a surpassing honor.

And then Monsieur Guy Poynton, the young English gentleman, whose single
appearance here a few weeks back had started all the undercurrents of
political intrigue, and who for the justification of French journalism
should at that moment have been slowly dying at the Morgue.

And with him the beautiful young English lady who had come in search of
him, and who, as she had left the place in the small hours of the
morning with Monsieur Louis, should certainly not now have reappeared as
charming and as brilliant as ever, her eyes soft with happiness, and her
laugh making music more wonderful than the violins of his little
orchestra.

And following her the broad-shouldered young Englishman, Sir George
Duncombe, who had once entertained a very dangerous little party in his
private room upstairs, and against whom the dictum had gone forth.

And following him the Englishman with the heavy glasses, whom _l'affaire
Poynton_ had also brought before to his cafe, and with whom Mademoiselle
from Austria had talked lon