xhilaration a man feels who takes a chance and is quite sure he'll
not have another chance if he loses. Do you understand what I mean?"

"Yes," said the Princess unsmilingly, her clear, pleasant eyes fixed
on him.

In her tranquil, indefinite expression there was something which made
him wonder how many such chances this pretty woman had taken in her
life of intellectual pleasure and bodily ease.

And now he remembered that Ilse Dumont apparently knew about
her--about Ruhannah, too. And Ilse Dumont was the agent of a foreign
government.

Was the Princess Mistchenka, patron and amateur of the arts, another
such agent? If not, why had he taken this journey for her with this
box of papers?

The passage of the Boulevard was slow; at every square traffic was
halted; all Paris crowded the streets in the early afternoon sunshine,
and the taxicab in which they sat made little speed until the Place de
la Concorde opened out and the great Arc--a tiny phantom of lavender
and pearl--spanned the vanishing point of a fairy perspective between
parallel and endless ramparts of tender green.

"There was a lot of war talk on the _Volhynia_," said Neeland, "but I
haven't heard any since I landed, nor have I seen a paper. I suppose
the Chancelleries have come to some agreement."

"No," said the Princess.

"You don't expect trouble, do you? I mean a general European
free-for-all fight?"

"I don't know, Jim."

"Haven't you," he asked blandly, "any means of acquiring inside
information?"

She did not even pretend to evade the good-humoured malice of his
smile and question:

"Yes; I have sources of private information. I have learned nothing,
so far."

He looked at Rue, but the smile had faded from her face and she
returned his questioning gaze gravely.

"There is great anxiety in Europe," she said in a low voice, "and the
tension is increasing. When we arrive home we shall have a chance to
converse more freely." She made the slightest gesture with her head
toward the chauffeur--a silent reminder and a caution.

The Princess nodded slightly:

"One never knows," she remarked. "We shall have much to say to one
another when we are safely home."

But Neeland could not take it very seriously here in the sunshine,
with two pretty women facing him--here speeding up the Champs Elysees
between the endless green of chestnut trees and the exquisite
silvery-grey facades of the wealthy--with motors flashing by on every
side and the