"I want to know exactly," she said, "what you think of it all. I know my husband has been making fun of it. He does not understand. He never will."

"Mr. de Valentin's scheme is a good one," I said slowly, "but he has not told us everything. If you want my opinion--"

"Of course I do," she declared.

"Then I think," I continued, "that his success depends a good deal upon something which he did not tell us."

"What is it?" she asked, eagerly.

"It depends, I think," I said, "upon the Power which has agreed to back his claims. If that Power is England, as he tried to make us believe, he has a great chance. If it is Germany, I think that he will fail."

She frowned impatiently.

"You are prejudiced," she declared.

"Perhaps," I answered. "Still, I may be right, you know."

"Germany is infinitely more powerful," she objected. "If she mobilized an army on the frontier, and France found half her soldiers disaffected--"

"You forget," I interposed, "that there would be England to be reckoned with. England is bound to help France in the event of a German invasion."

She smiled confidently.

"I don't fancy," she remarked, "that England could help much."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Perhaps not," I admitted; "yet I do not believe that German intervention will ever win for Mr. de Valentin the throne of France."

She changed the subject abruptly.

"Apart from this, let me ask you something else, Mr. Courage. Supposing the plot should succeed. How do you think it will be with us at the French Court? You know more about these things than we do. Shall we be accepted as the original holders of these t.i.tles would have been? Do you think that we shall have trouble with the French aristocrats?"

"I am afraid, Mrs. Van Reinberg," I answered, "that I am scarcely competent to answer such questions. Still, you must remember that your country-people have secured a firm footing in France, and it will be the King himself who will be your sponsor."

She raised her head. Her self-confidence seemed suddenly to have become re-established.

"You are right, Mr. Courage," she said. "It was absurd of me to have any doubts at all. And now let me ask you--if I may--a more personal question."

"By all means," I answered.

"What have you and Adele been quarrelling about?"

I looked at her in some astonishment.

"I can a.s.sure you," I said, "that there has been nothing in the nature of a quarrel between Miss Van Hoyt and myself."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Then why," she asked, "has Adele gone away at a moment's notice?"

"Gone away!" I repeated incredulously.

"Is it really possible that you did not know?" Mrs. Van Reinberg asked.

"She left just as we went in to the meeting. Mr. Stern's automobile is taking her to the depot."

"I had not the slightest idea of it," I declared. "Do you mean that she is not coming back?"

"Not at present, at any rate," Mrs. Van Reinberg declared. "You mean to tell me, Mr. Courage, that you have not quarrelled, and you did not know that she was going?"

"I had no idea of it," I said, "and I am quite certain that we have not quarrelled."

Mrs. Van Reinberg looked as though she found my statement hard to believe.

"You had better go to your room," she suggested, "and see if there is not a note for you! She must have a reason for going. She would tell me nothing; but I took it for granted that you were connected with it."

"Not to my knowledge," I a.s.sured her. "If you will excuse me, I will go and see if she has left any message."

I hurried up to my room. There was a note upon my dressing-table. I tore it hastily open. A few lines only, hastily scribbled in pencil:--

"DEAR!

"Everything is changed since the news I told you of this evening. We must separate at once, and keep apart. Remember you have only five days. If you remain in America longer than that, your life is not safe.

"For my sake, go home! For my sake, also, burn this directly you have read it."

CHAPTER XXVIII

DOUBLE DEALING

"What sort of a place is this, anyhow, Guest?" I asked him, looking round me with some curiosity. We were a long way from Fifth Avenue, and what I had always understood to be the centre of New York; but the bar in which we sat was quite equal to anything I had seen at the Waldorf-Astoria. The walls were panelled with dark oak, and hung with oil paintings. The bar itself was of polished walnut wood. All the appurtenances of the place, from the white linen clothes of the two servitors to the gla.s.s and silver upon the polished counter, were spotless and immaculate. In addition to the inevitable high stools, there were several little compartments screened off, after the fashion of the old-fashioned English coffee-room of the seventeenth century, and furnished with easy-chairs and lounges of the most luxurious description. In one of these we were now sitting.

"Better not ask me that," Guest answered dryly. "There are some places in New York of strange reputation, and this is one of them. Now go ahead!"

I told him everything. He was a good listener. He asked no questions, he understood everything. When I had finished, he smoked a cigarette through before he said a word. Then he stood up and gave me my hat.

"Come," he said, "we have a busy morning before us, and we must catch the German steamer for Hamburg this afternoon."

"Back to Europe?" I asked, as we left the place.

"Yes!"

"But won't that rather give us away?" I asked. "I came to go out West, you know."

"We must try and arrange that," Guest answered. "I'll explain as we go along."