r, with two of the
hidden rooms marked off in colored inks as closed. Closed, with strange
secrets beyond, quite certainly.

The Countess took out a jewel-case, emptied it, lifted its chamois
cushions, and took out a small book. It was an indifferent hiding-place,
but long immunity had made her careless. Referring to the book, she
wrote a letter in code. It was, to all appearances a friendly letter
referring to a family in her native town, and asking that the recipient
see that assistance be sent them before Thursday of the following week.
The assistance was specified with much detail--at her expense to send
so many blankets, so many loaves of bread, a long list. Having finished,
she destroyed, by burning, a number of papers watching until the
last ash had turned from dull red to smoking gray. The code-book she
hesitated over, but at last, with a shrug of her shoulders, she returned
it to its hiding-place in the jewel case.

Coupled with her bitterness was a sense of relief. Only when the papers
were destroyed had she realized the weight they had been. She summoned
Minna, her maid, and dressed for the street. Then, Minna accompanying
her, she summoned her carriage and went shopping.

She reached the palace again in time to dress for dinner. Somewhere on
that excursion she had left the letter, to be sent to its destination
over the border by special messenger that night.

Prince Ferdinand William Otto, at the moment of her return, was
preparing for bed. At a quarter to seven he had risen, bowed to Miss
Braithwaite, said good-night, and disappeared toward his bedroom and his
waiting valet. But a moment later he reappeared.

"I beg your pardon," he said, "but I think your watch is fast."

Miss Braithwaite consulted it. Then, rising she went to the window and
compared at with the moonlike face of the cathedral clock.

"There is a difference of five minutes," she conceded. "But I have no
confidence in the cathedral clock. It needs oiling, probably. Besides,
there are always pigeons sitting on the hands."

"May I wait for five minutes?"

"What could you do in five minutes?"

"Well," he suggested, rather pleadingly, "we might have a little
conversation, if you axe not too tired."

Miss Braithwaite sighed. It had been a long day and not a calm one, and
conversation with His Highness meant questions, mostly.

"Very well," she said.

"I'm not at all sleepy," Prince Ferdinand William Otto observed,
climbing on a ch