will see her now, signore," answered Olinto. "A servant of the
Princess Zurloff brought her to London this afternoon, and I have just
conveyed her from the station. She is in the next room, in ignorance,
however, that you are here."

And without another word I fled forward joyfully, and threw open the
folding-doors which separated me from my silent love.

Silent, yes! But she could, nevertheless, tell her story--surely the
strangest that any woman has ever lived to tell.

CHAPTER XVIII

CONTAINS ELMA'S STORY

Before me stood my love, a slim, tragic, rather wan figure in a heavy
dark traveling-coat and felt toque, her sweet lips parted and a look of
bewildered amazement upon her countenance as I burst in so suddenly upon
her.

In silence I grasped her tiny black-gloved hand, and then, also in
silence, raised it passionately to my eager lips. Her soft, dark
eyes--those eyes that spoke although she was mute--met mine, and in them
was a look that I had never seen there before--a look which as plainly
as any words told me that my wild fevered passion was reciprocated.

She gazed beyond into the room where the others had assembled, and then
looked at me inquiringly, whereupon I led her forward to where they
were, and Muriel fell upon her and kissed her with tears streaming from
her eyes.

"I prepared this surprise for you, Mr. Gregg," Muriel said, laughing
through her tears of joy. "Olinto learnt that she was on her way to
London, and I sent him to meet her. The Princess has managed
magnificently, has she not?"

"Yes. Thank God she is free!" I exclaimed. "But we must induce her to
tell us everything."

Muriel was already helping my love out of her heavy Russian coat, a
costly garment lined with sable, and when, after greeting Jack and
Olinto, she was comfortably seated, I took some notepaper from the
little writing-table by the window and scribbled in pencil the words:

"I need not write how delighted I am that you are safe--that the
Almighty has heard my prayers for you. Jack and Muriel have told me all
about Leithcourt and his scoundrelly associates. I know, too, dear--for
I may call you that, may I not?--how terribly you must have suffered in
silence through it all. Leithcourt is dead. He sank the yacht with all
the stolen property on board, but by accident was himself engulfed."

Bending and watching intently as I wrote, she drew back in horror and
surprise at the words. Then I added: "We are all fo