elf to be abducted--for, after all, that was what it came to--from
the deck of an American liner, and carried, not only beyond the clouds,
but also beyond the reach of human law, both criminal and conventional.

Inwardly she was simply fuming with rage. As she said afterwards, she
felt just like a bottled volcano which would like to go off and daren't.

About two minutes of somewhat surcharged silence passed. Mrs. Van
Stuyler sipped her coffee in ostentatiously small sips. Lord Redgrave
took his in slower and longer ones, and helped himself to bread and
butter. Miss Zaidie appeared perfectly contented with her contemplation
of the clouds.

CHAPTER II

At length Mrs. Van Stuyler, being a woman of large experience and some
social deftness, recognised that a change of subject was the easiest way
of retreat out of a rather difficult situation. So she put her cup down,
leant back in her chair, and, looking straight into Lord Redgrave's
eyes, she said with purely feminine irrelevance:

"I suppose you know, Lord Redgrave, that, when we left, the machine
which we call in America Manhood Suffrage--which, of course, simply
means the selection of a government by counting noses which may or may
not have brains above them--was what some of our orators would call in
full blast. If you are going to New York after Washington, as you said
on the boat, we might find it a rather inconvenient time to arrive. The
whole place will be chaos, you know; because when the citizen of the
United States begins electioneering, New York is not a very nice place
to stop in except for people who want excitement, and so if you will
excuse me putting the question so directly, I should like to know what
you just do mean to do----"

Lord Redgrave saw that she was going to add "with us," but before he had
time to say anything, Miss Zaidie turned round, walked deliberately
towards her chair, sat down, poured herself out a fresh cup of coffee,
added the milk and sugar with deliberation, and then after a preliminary
sip said, with her cup poised half-way between her dainty lips and the
table:

"Mrs. Van, I've got an idea. I suppose it's inherited, for dear old Pop
had plenty. Anyhow we may as well get back to common-sense subjects. Now
look here," she went on, switching an absolutely convincing glance
straight into her host's eyes, "my father may have been a dreamer, but
still he was a Sound Money man. He believed in honest dealings. He
didn't b