ard the window, and cautiously looked inside.
Monsieur Perrier stood before one of the mirrors, arranging his bushy
hair. _There was no one else in the shop._

CHAPTER V

Grace Duvall arrived at the house of the American Minister at about
half-past five, and luckily found him at home. From the maid at the
hotel she had learned that his name was Phelps, Austin Phelps, and she
at once recognized it as that of a lawyer prominent in business and
social circles in New York. That he should know her, at least by name,
was not at all surprising--her aunt, prior to her marriage to Count
d'Este, had been much courted on account of both her beauty and her
wealth. She waited in the handsome drawing-room to which she had been
conducted, nervously wondering what the nature of her reception would
be. The card she had given to the servant was one of her own--in fact,
she remembered with a smile that her marriage to Richard Duvall but a
few hours before had so filled her mind and heart that she had
completely forgotten to have any cards prepared setting forth her new
estate. It was as Grace Ellicott that the Minister would know her,
however, and her business in Brussels made it desirable that she should
pose as a single woman. It was not at all difficult, she thought to
herself, under the circumstances.

Mr. Phelps, the Minister, proved to be a rubicund, rather portly
gentleman, with white side whiskers and an air of urbane courtesy that
set her at her ease at once. She told him who she was, hopefully, and
was delighted to find that he placed her at once.

"Margaret Ellicott's niece," he said with a pleasant smile, offering his
hand. "My dear girl, I'm delighted to meet you. I knew your aunt well,
years ago, when you were going about in short dresses. I lost sight of
her, after she married D'Este, and went to Paris to live. It was only
the other day that I learned of her death. She was a fine woman. Mrs.
Phelps and myself were both very fond of her. Won't you take a seat and
tell me what you are doing in Brussels?"

Grace sat down, and at once plunged into her story. "I have suffered a
great deal, lately, Mr. Phelps," she began, "from nervousness. I've been
living in Paris, you know, and many things have happened to upset me.
You have heard, of course, of the Count d'Este's treatment of me, and of
his arrest and conviction?"

"Yes." He nodded gravely. "I do not wonder that you feel upset."

"Of late I have suffered a gre