ed with the Prince several times since our conversation,"
Penelope continued. "So far as any information which he gave me or
seemed likely to give me, I might as well have talked in a foreign
language. But in his house, the day before yesterday, in his own
library, hidden in a casket which opened only with a secret lock, I
found two things."

"What were they?" the Ambassador asked quickly.

"A roll of silken cord," Penelope said, "such as was used to strangle
poor Dicky, and a strangely shaped dagger exactly like the picture of
the one with which Hamilton Fynes was stabbed."

"Did he know that you found them?" Mr. Blaine-Harvey asked.

"He was with me," Penelope answered. "He even, at my request, opened the
casket. He must have forgotten that they were there."

"Perhaps," the Ambassador said thoughtfully, "he never knew."

"One cannot tell," Penelope answered.

"Did he say anything when you discovered them?" the Ambassador asked.

"Nothing," Penelope declared. "It was not necessary. I saw his face. He
knows that I understand. It may have been some one else connected with
the house, of course, but the main fact is beyond all doubt. Those
murders were instigated, if they were not committed, by the Prince."

The Ambassador walked to the window and back again.

"Penelope," he said, "you have only confirmed what I felt must be so,
but even then the certainty of it is rather a shock."

She gave him her hand.

"I have told you the truth," she said. "Make what use of it you will.
There is one other thing, perhaps, which I ought to tell you. The Prince
is going back to his own country very shortly."

Mr. Harvey nodded.

"I have just been given to understand as much," he said. "At present he
is to be met with every day. I believe that he is even now in my drawing
rooms."

"Where I ought to be," Penelope said, turning toward the door, "only I
felt that I must see you first."

"I will not come with you," Mr. Harvey said. "There is no need for our
little conference to become the subject of comment. By the bye," he
added, "let me take this opportunity of wishing you every happiness. I
haven't seen Somerfield yet, but he is a lucky fellow. As an American,
however, I cannot help grudging another of our most popular daughters to
even the best of Englishmen."

Penelope's smile was a little forced.

"Thank you very much," she said. "It is all rather in the air, at
present, you know. We are not going to be married for