y
avoiding the dancers, yet looking neither to the right nor to the left.
His eyes were fastened upon John. If he had been drinking, as Sophy
suggested, there were few signs of it. His walk was steady; his bearing,
as usual, deliberate and distinguished.

He came to a standstill beside them. Sophy's fingers clutched at the
tablecloth. The prince looked from one to the other.

"You have robbed me of a guest, Mr. Strangewey," he remarked; "but I
bear you no ill-will. It is very seldom that one sees you in these
haunts of dissipation."

"It is a gala night with me," John replied, his tone raised no more than
usual, but shaking with some new quality. "Drink a glass of wine with
me, prince," he invited, taking the bottle from the ice-pail and filling
a tumbler upon the table. "Wish me luck, won't you? I am engaged to be
married!"

"I wish you happiness with all my heart," the prince answered, holding
his glass up. "May I not know the name of the lady?"

"No doubt you are prepared for the news," John told him. "Miss Maurel
has promised to become my wife."

The prince's hand was as steady as a rock. He raised his glass to his
lips.

"I drink to you both with the greatest pleasure," he said, looking John
full in the face. "It is a most remarkable coincidence. To-night is the
anniversary of the night when Louise Maurel pledged herself to me in
somewhat different fashion!"

John's frame seemed for a moment to dilate, and fire flashed from his
eyes.

"Will you be good enough to explain those words?" he demanded.

The prince bowed. He glanced toward Sophy.

"Since you insist," he replied. "To-night, then, let me tell you, is the
anniversary of the night when Louise Maurel consented to become my
mistress!"

What followed came like a thunder-clap. The prince reeled back, his hand
to his mouth, blood dropping upon the tablecloth from his lips, where
John had struck him. He made a sudden spring at his assailant. Sophy,
shrieking, leaped to her feet. Every one else in the place seemed
paralyzed with wonder.

John seized the prince by the throat, and held him for a moment at
arm's length. Then he lifted him off his feet as one might lift a child
from the floor. Holding his helpless victim in a merciless grip, he
carried him across the room and deliberately flung him over the table
toward his empty chair.

There was a crash of glass and crockery which rang through the
momentarily hushed room. The dancers had stopped in