f with a sigh. She turned toward him.
"Your dissertation has brought you honor, they tell me," she said,
looking at him critically.

He acknowledged the remark with a bow. "It is nothing," he replied
indifferently. "Only a step toward molecules and atoms."

The baroness smiled grimly. "I don't understand chemical jargon." Her
tone was dry. "I understand you are going to be famous."

The young man bowed again absently. He glanced casually at the picture
above the fireplace. "What would you give to know"--he nodded toward
it--"that it is a genuine Duerer?"

The shrewd eyes darted at him.

The clean-cut face was compact and expressionless.

"Give! I would give"--her eye swept the apartment with its wealth of
canvas and gilt and tapestry--"I would give all, everything in the
room"--she raised a knotted hand toward the picture--"to know that
Albrecht Duerer's monogram belongs there." The pointing finger trembled a
little.

He looked at it reflectively. Then his glance travelled about the great
room. "Everything in this room," he said slowly. "That means--" He
paused, glancing toward the window.

The young girl had left her seat. The papers had dropped to the floor.
She was leaning from the casement to pick a white rose that swayed and
nodded, out of reach.

He waited a breath. Her fingers closed on it and she sank back in her
chair, smiling, the rose against her cheek.

The eyes watching her glowed softly. "Everything in this room--" He
spoke very low. "The one with the rose?"

The old face turned to him with a look. The heavy jaw dropped and forgot
to close. The keen eyes scanned his face. The jaws came together with a
snap. She nodded to him shrewdly.

The young man rose to his feet. The cynical smile had left his face. It
was intent and earnest. He looked up for a moment to the picture, and
then down at the wrinkled, eager face.

"To-morrow, at this time, you shall know," he said gravely.

The old eyes followed him, half in doubt, half in hope. They pierced the
heavy door as it swung shut behind him.

The stiff, dapper figure had crossed the hall. The outer door clanged.

Against the green window, within, the soft curls and gentle, questioning
eyes of the Fraeulein Marie waited. As the door clanged, a rose was laid
lightly to her lips and dropped softly into the greenness below.

IV

At a quarter to ten the next morning a closed carriage drew up before
the heavy gate. A dapper figure pushed