name?"

"No. I say, this is getting interesting!" He was beaming.

"She is Olga Platanova. Her mother was married in this city twenty-five
years ago to Professor Platanova of Warsaw. The Professor was executed
last year for conspiracy. He was one of the leaders of a great
revolutionary movement in Poland. They were virtually anarchists, as you
have come to place them in America. This girl, Olga, was his secretary.
His death almost killed her. But that is not all. She had a sweetheart
up to fifteen months ago. He was a prince of the royal blood. He would
have married her in spite of the difference in their stations had it not
been for the intervention of the Crown that she and her kind hate so
well. The young man's powerful relatives took a hand in the affair. He
was compelled to marry a scrawny little duchess, and Olga was warned
that if she attempted to entice him away from his wife she would be
punished. She did not attempt it, because she is a virtuous girl--of
that I am sure. But she hates them all--oh, how she hates them! Her
uncle, Spantz, offered her a home. She came here a month ago,
broken-spirited and sick. So far, she has been exceedingly respectful to
our laws. It is not that we fear anything from her; but that we are
obliged to watch her for the benefit of our big brothers across the
border. Now you know why I advised you to let the fire alone."

King was silent for a moment, turning something over in his head.

"Baron, are you sure that she is a Red?"

"Quite. She attended their councils."

"She doesn't look it, 'pon my word. I thought they were the scum of the
earth."

"The kind you have in America are. But over here--oh, well, we never can
tell."

"I don't mind saying she interests me. She's pretty--and I have an idea
she's clever. Baron, let me understand you. Do you mean that this is a
polite way of commanding me to have nothing to do with her?"

"You put it broadly. In the first place, I am quite sure she will have
nothing to do with you. She loved the husband of the scrawny duchess.
_You_, my good friend, handsome as you are, cannot interest her, believe
me."

"I daresay you're right," glumly.

"I am merely warning you. Young men of your age and temperament
sometimes let their fancies lead them into desperate predicaments. I've
no doubt you can take care of yourself, but--" he paused, as if very
much in doubt.

"I'm much obliged. And I'll keep my eyes well opened. I suppose there's
no