and--Ah, well, with Stafford's arm round her,
with her head almost pillowed on his shoulder she was happy, and her
fears, her vague doubts and presentiments fell from her.

"Ah, that was good," she said, with a sigh. "Do not forget--the
eleventh, dearest! Take me to the prince--he is over there."

She dropped her curtsey to his royal highness, and Stafford left her
with him. As he made his way to the end of the room he saw Griffenberg
and several of the other financiers in a group, as usual; and they were
talking with even more than their ordinary enthusiasm and
secretiveness. Griffenberg caught his arm as he was passing.

"Heard the news, Mr. Orme?" he asked.

"No; what is it?" said Stafford.

Griffenberg smiled, but rather gravely.

"They say that the peerage will be announced to-night."

Stafford nodded. And Griffenberg after a stare at Stafford's impassive
face which evinced no flush of exultation, glanced at the others
curiously, seemed about to add something, then checked himself and
turned away, and as Stafford went on, said in a low voice to Wirsch:

"Do you think he has heard? Looked rather glum, didn't he?"

The baron shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't know. He's a shtrange sheentleman. He keeps himself to himself
doesh Mishter Shtafford."

Stafford went on, and at one of the anterooms came upon Mr. Falconer.
He was standing looking on at the dancing with a grim countenance, and
seemed lost in thought; so much so that he was almost guilty of a start
when Stafford spoke to him.

"Yes! Great crowd. Just come in? Father all right?"

"Quite well, thanks," said Stafford, rather surprised by the question.

At that moment a servant brought a foreign cablegram to Falconer.
Falconer tore it open, glanced at it, and went pale.

"Anything the matter?" asked Stafford.

Falconer looked at him fixedly and curiously, then with a shake of his
head moved away.

Stafford smoked a cigarette and sauntered back to the ballroom. He
passed the group of city men again, and caught a word or two in the
baron's gruff voice:

"I want to know how we shtand! The plow will shmash him; but the rest
of us--us who are in de shwim. If de natives have risen--"

But Stafford paid little heed--forgot the words as soon as he had heard
them; and went in search of his partner. While he was dancing, he was
aware of that peculiar stir, that flutter and wave of excitement which
agitates a crowd when something momentous is happening.