ible," he added, and once more extended
his hand to Olivia. This time, with lowered eyes, she gave him the
tips of her fingers and, as the beckoning music swelled a delicate
prelude, she stepped from the dais and suffered the prince to lead
her toward the banquet hall.

Amory drew a long breath, and it came to St. George that if he,
Amory, said anything about what he would give if he had a leased
wire to the _Sentinel_ Office, there would no longer be room on the
island for them both. But Amory said no such thing. Instead, he
looked at St. George in distinct hesitation.

"I say," he brought out finally, "St. George, by Jove, do you know,
it seems to me I've seen Miss Frothingham before. And how jolly
beautiful she is," he added almost reverently.

"Maybe it was when you were a Phoenician galley slave and she went
by in a trireme," offered St. George, trying to keep in sight the
bright hair and the floating veil beyond the press of the crowd.
Would he see Olivia and would he be able to speak with her, and did
she know he was there, and would she be angry? Ah well, she could
not possibly be angry, he thought; but with all this in his mind it
was hardly reasonable of Amory to expect him to speculate on where
Miss Frothingham might have been seen before. If it weren't for this
Balator now, St. George said to himself restlessly, and suddenly
observed that Balator was expecting them to follow him. So, in the
slow-moving throng, all soft hues and soft laughter, they made their
way toward the colonnade that cut off the banquet room. And at every
step St. George thought, "she has passed here--and here--and here,"
and all the while, through the mighty open rafters in the conical
roof, were to be seen those strange banners joyously floating in the
delicate, alien light. The wine of the moment flowed in his veins,
and he moved under strange banners, with a strange ecstasy in his
heart.

Therefore, suddenly to hear Rollo's voice at his shoulder came as a
distinct shock.

"It's one of them little brown 'uns, sir," Rollo announced in his
best tone of mystery. "He's settin' upstairs, sir, an' he's all fer
settin' there _till_ he sees you. He says it's most important, sir."

Amory heard.

"Shall I go up?" he asked eagerly; "I'd like a whiff of a pipe,
anyway. It'll be something to tie to."

"Will you go?" asked St. George in undisguised gratitude. He was
prepared to accept most risks rather than to lose sight of the star
he