is no scope whatever for such schemes and intrigues as you and all
the rest of them delight in. In France and Russia, even in Austria,
it is different. The working of all great organisation there is
underground--it is easy enough to meet plot by counterplot, to suborn,
to deceive, to undermine. But here all the great games of life seem to
be played with the cards upon the table. We are hopelessly out of place.
I cannot think, Prince, what ill chance led you to ever contemplate
making your headquarters in London."

The Prince stroked his long moustache.

"That is all very well, Lucille," he said, "but you must remember that
in England we have very large subscriptions to the Order. These people
will not go on paying for nothing. There was a meeting of the London
branch a few months ago, and it was decided that unless some practical
work was done in this country all English subscriptions should cease. We
had no alternative but to come over and attempt something. Brott is of
course the bete noire of our friends here. He is distinctly the man to
be struck at."

"And what evil stroke of fortune," Lucille asked, "induced you to send
for me?"

"That is a very cruel speech, dear lady," the Prince murmured.

"I hope," Lucille said, "that you have never for a moment imagined that
I find any pleasure in what I am called upon to do."

"Why not? It must be interesting. You can have had no sympathy with
Brott--a hopeless plebeian, a very paragon of Anglo-Saxon stupidity?"

Lucille laughed scornfully.

"Reginald Brott is a man, at any rate, and an honest one," she answered.
"But I am too selfish to think much of him. It is myself whom I pity. I
have a home, Prince, and a husband. I want them both."

"You amaze me," the Prince said slowly. "Lucille, indeed, you amaze me.
You have been buried alive for three years. Positively we believed that
our summons would sound to you like a message from Heaven."

Lucille was silent for a moment. She rubbed the mist from the carriage
window and looked out into the streets.

"Well," she said, "I hope that you realise now how completely you
have misunderstood me. I was perfectly happy in America. I have been
perfectly miserable here. I suppose that I have grown too old for
intrigues and adventures."

"Too old, Lucille," the Prince murmured, leaning a little towards her.
"Lucille, you are the most beautiful woman in London. Many others may
have told you so, but there is no one, Lucille,