earch for her she was enormously pleased.

"How wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You know I told you, Constance, that if
we really threw ourselves in the path of adventure mystery would come
out to meet us in silken sandals."

"But you will not appear in this play?" asked Raynor anxiously. "It is
the business of the Government of the United States to see that you
commit no further indiscretions. There is another matter which I hope
you can clear up. You are not only a subject of concern to the British
Embassy, but the French ambassador also has appealed to us to assist him
in a trifling matter!"

"The French ambassador?" Alice exclaimed with a surprise I knew to be
unfeigned. "I thought the dear Montani was an Italian?"

"We will continue to call him Montani, but he's a Frenchman and one of
the keenest men in the French Secret Service. You have caused him the
deepest anguish."

"Please hurry on!" She bent forward with childish delight. "This is a
part of the story we've been living that I really know nothing about. I
hope it won't be disappointing!"

Raynor laughed and shook his head.

"It's fortunate that Montani is a gentleman, anxious to shield and
protect you. You have a fan in your hand----"

She spread it for our inspection.

"A harmless trinket, but without it the adventure would have been very
tame."

"The story of the fan is in the most secret archives of Paris and
Washington. When you were packing up in Tokyo to come home on the very
last day before your departure a lady called on you whom you knew as
Madame Volkoff."

"That dear woman!" exclaimed Mrs. Farnsworth. "We knew her very well."

"Almost too well," cried Raynor. "A cultivated woman and exceedingly
clever, but a German spy. She had collected some most interesting data
with reference to Japanese armament and defenses, but suspecting that
she was being watched, she hit upon a most ingenious way of getting the
information across the Pacific, expecting to communicate with German
agents in America who could pick it up and pass it on to Berlin. You
see, she thought you an easy mark. She got hold of a fan which Montani
informs me is the exact counterpart of that one you hold. She reduced
her data to the smallest possible compass, concealed it in her fan, and
watched for a chance to exchange with you. The astute Montani found the
Japanese artisan who had done the tinkering for her and surmised that
you were to be made the unconscious bearer of the i