t that she's one of the cleverest and most
unscrupulous female spies in the Spanish secret service; and while they
were deciding where to take her, a stranger, who we're certain was one
of the Secretaries of their Legation, eloped with her, Black Maria and
all, with the recklessness of a true hidalgo. They were joined by a
band outside the city, where they overcame a Justice of the Peace who
arrested them, after a desperate resistance on his part. The story of
this unequal battle was one of the finest bits of bravery we've had for
years.

"After dining at a hotel at Yonkers they held up the waiter with
revolvers and escaped. Similar audacities were perpetrated at the
boundary-line between the United States and Canada, and in spite of the
most intelligent and valiant efforts on the part of the police, aided by
our own special corps of detectives, they've so far eluded us. Their
leader's said to be a perfect devil, who, as I tell you, is certainly a
Secretary of the Spanish Legation."

"How do you know that?" asked Banborough.

"Ah," said Marchmont, looking wise and shaking his head, "the _Daily
Leader_ has private sources of information. I wonder you've not heard
anything of this."

"Yes," acquiesced the Englishman, "it _is_ curious, isn't it?"

"But," continued his friend, "you haven't told me yet why you came to
Montreal."

"Well," said Cecil, laughing, "I can at least assure you that my trip
here has been much less eventful than the one you described."

"By the way," said the journalist, "have you seen the last editorial
about your book in the _Daily Leader_?"

The Englishman shook his head.

"No? Well, here goes." And Marchmont began to read forthwith:

"'English conservatism has recently received a shock from the scion of
Blanford, and the Bishop's son, in connection with 'The Purple
Kangaroo,' has caused the British lion to hump himself into the hotbed
of American politics--'"

"Oh, shut up!" said Cecil, with more force than politeness.

"Don't you like it?" exclaimed the journalist. "There's a column and a
half more. I blue-pencilled a copy and sent it over to your old man."

Banborough groaned.

"But," continued Marchmont, "this isn't anything to what we'll do when
we've hounded the Dons out of Canada."

"What?" cried the author.

"Yes," went on his friend. "We've complained to your Foreign Office, and
within a week every Spanish conspirator will receive notice to quit Her
Majesty's North Ame