e pallor of the so-called Franklin when he came to the
door with his visitor. "I am beginning to gather some information out of
all this. But if you will tell me the whole story----"

"At once, Mr. Ware. I want your advice and assistance. First you must
have some whiskey."

"Not in the morning, thank you."

"You must have it!" she replied, ringing the bell. "What I have said
already has upset you, and you will require all your courage to hear the
rest."

"Anne," said Giles anxiously.

"My poor child. I fear for her greatly. No! Don't ask me more. So long
as Olga is with her I hope that all will be well. Otherwise----" She
made a quick gesture to silence him, for the servant entered to receive
orders.

So Giles was provided with some whiskey and water, which the Princess
made him drink at once. She had thrown off her languor, and was as quick
in her movements as he usually was himself. The discovery of Denham's
masquerade, the doubts about Anne's safety had roused her from her
indolence, and she had braced herself to act. A more wonderful
transformation Giles could scarcely have imagined. Shortly he was
ordered to smoke. The Princess lighted a cigarette herself, and began
abruptly to tell her tale. It was quite worthy of a melodramatic
novelist.

"I was born in Jamaica," she said, speaking slowly and distinctly, so
that Giles should fully understand. "My father, Colonel Shaw, had
retired from the army. Having been stationed at Kingstown, he had
contracted a love for the island, and so stopped there. He went into the
interior and bought an estate. Shortly afterwards he married my mother.
She was a quadroon."

Giles uttered an ejaculation. He remembered that Anne had stated she had
negro blood in her veins, and now saw why Princess Karacsay and her
daughter had such a love for barbaric coloring. Also he guessed that
Olga's fierce temperament was the outcome of her African blood.

The Princess nodded. She quite understood his interruption.

"You can see the negro in me," she said quietly. "In Jamaica that was
considered disgraceful, but in Vienna no one knows about the taint."

"It is not a taint in England, Princess--or in the Old World."

"No! Perhaps not. But then"--she waved her delicate hand
impatiently--"there is no need to discuss that, Mr. Ware. Let me proceed
with what I have to tell you. When I was eighteen I married George
Franklin. He was a young planter of good birth, and very handsome in
looks.