yes, it's because you're a diplomat," he finally
remarked in triumph. It was a grand recovery, thought he. "Saunders is
an ass and Britt would be one if Browne could only admit it, as I do.
Rubbish! Don't let that trouble you. Eh, Browne?"

"Besides," said Bobby Browne breezily, "I haven't heard of your clients
inviting _you_ to lunch, Mr. Chase. The cases are parallel."

"I'm not so sure about his clients' wives," said Deppingham, with a vast
haw-haw! Chase looked extremely uncomfortable.

"I am told that some of them are very beautiful," said Genevra sedately.

"Other men's wives always are, I've discovered," said Chase gallantly.

The party had moved over to the great stone steps which led down into
the gardens. Chase was standing beside Lady Deppingham and both of them
were looking toward his distant bungalow. He turned to the Princess with
the remark:

"That is my home. Princess. It is the first time I have seen it from
your point of view, Lady Deppingham. I must say that it doesn't seem as
far from the chateau to the bungalow as it does from the bungalow to the
chateau. There have been times when the chateau seemed to be thousands
of miles away."

"When in reality it was at your very feet," she said with a bright look
into his eyes. For some unaccountable reason, Genevra resented that look
and speech. Perhaps it was because she felt the rift of an undercurrent.

"Is that really where you live?" she asked, so innocently that Chase had
difficulty in controlling his expression.

At that instant something struck sharply against the stone column above
Chase's head. At least three persons saw the little puff of smoke in the
hills far to the right. Every one heard the distant crack of a rifle.
The bullet had dropped at Chase's feet before the sound of the report
came floating to their ears. No one spoke as he stooped and picked up
the warm, deadly missile. Turning it over in his fingers, an ugly thing
to look at, he said coolly, although his cheek had gone white:

"With Von Blitz's compliments, ladies and gentlemen. He is calling on
me, by proxy."

"Good God, Chase," cried Browne, "they're trying to murder us. Get back,
every one! Inside the doors!"

The women, white-faced and silent for the moment, turned to follow the
speaker.

"I'm sorry to bring my troubles to your door," said Chase. "It was meant
for me, not for any of you. The man who fired that did not intend to
kill me. He was merely giving voice