s upon his lips. The torch at
last was kindled! In the hall of the hotel he came across a group of
assembling guests just starting for the luncheon room. A tall, familiar
figure stepped for a moment on one side. His heart gave a little jump.
Geraldine held out her pearl-gloved hand.

"Captain Granet," she said, "I wanted to tell you something."

"Yes?" he answered breathlessly.

She glanced towards where the little group of people were already on
their way to the stairs.

"I must not stay for a second," she continued, dropping her voice, "but
I wanted to tell you--I am no longer engaged to Major Thomson. Goodbye!"

A rush of words trembled upon his lips but she was gone. He watched
her slim, graceful figure as she passed swiftly along the vestibule and
joined her friends. He even heard her little laugh as she greeted one of
the men who had waited for her.

"Decidedly," Granet said to himself triumphantly as he turned towards
the door, "this is my day!"

CHAPTER XIV

Monsieur Guillot was a man of emotional temperament. For more than an
hour after Granet had left him, he paced up and down his little room,
stood before the high windows which overlooked the Thames, raised his
hands above his head and gazed with flashing eyes into the future--such
a future! All his life he had been a schemer, his eyes turned towards
the big things, yet with himself always occupying the one glorified
place in the centre of the arena. He was, in one sense of the word, a
patriot, but it was the meanest and smallest sense. There was no great
France for him in which his was not the commanding figure. In every
dream of that wonderful future, of a more splendid and triumphant
France, he saw himself on the pinnacle of fame, himself acclaimed by
millions the strong great man, the liberator. France outside himself
lived only as a phantasy. And now at last his chance had come. The
minutes passed unnoticed as he built his way up into the future. He was
shrewd and calculating, he took note of the pitfalls he must avoid. One
by one he decided upon the men whom gradually and cautiously he would
draw into his confidence. Finally he saw the whole scheme complete, the
bomb-shell thrown, France hysterically casting laurels upon the man who
had brought her unexpected peace.

The door-bell rang. He answered it a little impatiently. A slim,
fashionably dressed young Frenchman stood there, whose face was vaguely
familiar to him.

"Monsieur Guillot