there is nothing more to tell of
either Chetney or the Princess Zichy."

"Of Lord Chetney perhaps not," interrupted the sporting-looking
gentleman with the black tie, "but there'll always be something to tell
of the Princess Zichy. I know enough stories about her to fill a book.
She was a most remarkable woman." The speaker dropped the end of his
cigar into his coffee cup and, taking his case from his pocket, selected
a fresh one. As he did so he laughed and held up the case that the
others might see it. It was an ordinary cigar-case of well-worn
pig-skin, with a silver clasp.

"The only time I ever met her," he said, "she tried to rob me of this."

The Baronet regarded him closely.

"She tried to rob you?" he repeated.

[Illustration: 08 The Princess Zichy]

"Tried to rob me of this," continued the gentleman in the black tie,
"and of the Czarina's diamonds." His tone was one of mingled admiration
and injury.

"The Czarina's diamonds!" exclaimed the Baronet. He glanced quickly and
suspiciously at the speaker, and then at the others about the table.
But their faces gave evidence of no other emotion than that of ordinary
interest.

"Yes, the Czarina's diamonds," repeated the man with the black tie.
"It was a necklace of diamonds. I was told to take them to the Russian
Ambassador in Paris who was to deliver them at Moscow. I am a Queen's
Messenger," he added.

"Oh, I see," exclaimed Sir Andrew in a tone of relief. "And you say
that this same Princess Zichy, one of the victims of this double murder,
endeavored to rob you of--of--that cigar-case."

"And the Czarina's diamonds," answered the Queen's Messenger
imperturbably. "It's not much of a story, but it gives you an idea
of the woman's character. The robbery took place between Paris and
Marseilles."

The Baronet interrupted him with an abrupt movement. "No, no," he cried,
shaking his head in protest. "Do not tempt me. I really cannot listen. I
must be at the House in ten minutes."

"I am sorry," said the Queen's Messenger. He turned to those seated
about him. "I wonder if the other gentlemen--" he inquired tentatively.
There was a chorus of polite murmurs, and the Queen's Messenger, bowing
his head in acknowledgment, took a preparatory sip from his glass. At
the same moment the servant to whom the man with the black pearl had
spoken, slipped a piece of paper into his hand. He glanced at it,
frowned, and threw it under the table.

The servant bowed to the