nited the paper, holding its flaming fabric between his fingers until
the last half-inch had burned. He dropped the tiny fragment after
lighting his cigar with its flame.

One of his friends, a Brazilian coffee merchant, addressed him in the
native tongue, which Warren spoke as fluently as English.

"Ah, _senor_, you care not for your letter?"

"Oh, it's just a little invitation to a party to-night," laughed Jarvis
of Kentucky. "If anyone found it on my person, he might think I kept
late hours and associated with bad company. Let us have a drink to our
friendship in the club, for I may take a long journey to-night, and
never see you again!"

III

IN THE ROYAL SUITE

A beautiful young woman stirred uneasily in the early slumber of the
evening. Eleven floors below her, in the foyer of the Hotel Manhattan,
the after-theater crowd of visitors thronged and buzzed happily. But
the girl, after an unusual day of anxiety in a strange land, was ill at
ease, with fitful dreams.

The Paris clock of her Highness delicately struck two musical notes
upon the chimes, to indicate the half-hour; at the same instant, as
though by echo and vehement confirmation, two revolver shots resounded
in the corridor.

The girl shuddered as she opened her large dark eyes, sitting bolt
upright in bed. She heard a slamming of doors, a growing hubbub in the
usually decorous hallway outside, and her feminine curiosity almost
conquered the aristocratic reserve, to impel her to rise and discover
the origin of the hubbub.

She was spared the trouble, for suddenly the door of her boudoir
received a vigorous thump. The lock crashed and it swung open,
admitting the rays of a red electric lamp in the corridor outside. The
portal swung shut with even greater promptitude, as a dark body leaped
over the threshold.

"_Madre de Dios!_" she screamed. Then, after a gasp, "Who's there!"

The intruder backed against the door, working with the top bolt, which
was still intact. She could see the vague outline by the dim glow of
the moonlight which streamed into her room.

Then, as she seemed preparing for another cry, he turned toward her.

"Ssssh! Don't make any noise," he whispered vibrantly, audaciously.

The girl slipped from her bed and drew a flimsy dressing-gown about
her.

"What do you want?"

"Silence!"

She had reached the lamp on the small boudoir table near the bed. She
switched on the electric light. They stared at each other
w