have some influence. May I trust you?"

"On my honor," puzzled, yet eager.

"There may be a comic opera, as you call it. War is not so impossible as
to be laughed at. The dove may fly away and the ravens come."

"Who in thunder might this woman be?" he thought.

"And," went on the Veil, "an extra saber might be used. Give me your
address, in case I should find it necessary to send for you."

Now Maurice was a wary youth. Under ordinary circumstances he would have
given a fictitious address to this strange sybil with the prophecy of
war; for he had accosted her only in the spirit of fun. But here was the
key which he had been seeking, the key to all that had brought him to
Bleiberg. Intrigue, adventure, or whatever it was, and to whatever end,
he plunged into it. He drew out a card case, selected a card on which he
wrote "Room 12, Continental," and passed it over the table. She read it,
and slipped it into her purse.

Maurice thought: "Who wouldn't join the army with such recruiting
officers?"

While the pantomime took place, a man pushed by Maurice's chair and
crossed over to the table recently occupied by him. He sat down, lit
a short pipe, rested his feet on the lowest rung of the ladder-like
railing, and contemplated the western hills, which by now were enveloped
in moon mists. Neither Maurice nor his mysterious vis-a-vis remarked
him. Indeed, his broad back afforded but small attraction. And if he
puffed his pipe fiercely, nobody cared, since the breeze carried the
smoke waterward.

After putting the card into her purse, Mademoiselle of the Veil's gaze
once more wandered toward the entrance, and this time it grew fixed.
Maurice naturally followed it, and he saw a tall soldier in fatigue
dress elbowing his way through the crush. Many moved aside for him;
those in uniform saluted.

"Monsieur," came from behind the veil, "you may go now. I dismiss you.
If I have need of you I promise to send for you."

He stood up. "I thank you for the entertainment and the promise you
extend. I shall be easily found," committing himself to nothing. "I
suppose you are a person of importance in affairs."

"It is not unlikely. I see that you love adventure for its own sake,
for you have not asked me if it be the duchy or the kingdom. Adieu,
Monsieur," with a careless wave of the gray-gloved hand. "Adieu!"

He took his dismissal heroically and shot a final glance at the
approaching soldier. His brows came together.

"Wher