Truxton King. George Barr McCutcheon

to follow the lady of his choice from place to place. She came but recently, I recall."

      "You think I knew her before and followed her to Edelweiss?"

      "I am not quite sure whether you have been in Warsaw lately. There is a gap in your movements that I can't account for."

      King became serious at once. He saw that it was best to be frank with this keen old man.

      "Baron Dangloss, I don't know just what you are driving at, but I'll set you straight so far as I'm concerned. I never saw that girl until the day before yesterday. I never spoke to her until to-day."

      "She smiled on you quite familiarly from her window casement yesterday," said Dangloss coolly.

      "She laughed at me, to be perfectly candid. But what's all this about? Who is she? What's the game? I don't mind confessing that I have a feeling she is not what she claims to be, but that's as far as I've got."

      Dangloss studied the young man's face for a moment and then came to a sudden decision. He leaned forward and smiled sourly.

      "Take my advice: do not play with fire," he said enigmatically.

      "You—you mean she's a dangerous person? I can't believe that, Baron."

      "She has dangerous friends out in the world. I don't mean to say she will cause you any trouble here—but there is a hereafter. Mind you, I'm not saying she isn't a good girl, or even an adventuress. On the contrary, she comes of an excellent family—in fact, there were noblemen among them a generation or two ago. You know her name?"

      "No. I say, this is getting interesting!" He was beaming.

      "She is Olga Platanova. Her mother was married in this city twenty-five years ago to Professor Platanova of Warsaw. The Professor was executed last year for conspiracy. He was one of the leaders of a great revolutionary movement in Poland. They were virtually anarchists, as you have come to place them in America. This girl, Olga, was his secretary. His death almost killed her. But that is not all. She had a sweetheart up to fifteen months ago. He was a prince of the royal blood. He would have married her in spite of the difference in their stations had it not been for the intervention of the Crown that she and her kind hate so well. The young man's powerful relatives took a hand in the affair. He was compelled to marry a scrawny little duchess, and Olga was warned that if she attempted to entice him away from his wife she would be punished. She did not attempt it, because she is a virtuous girl—of that I am sure. But she hates them all—oh, how she hates them! Her uncle, Spantz, offered her a home. She came here a month ago, broken-spirited and sick. So far, she has been exceedingly respectful to our laws. It is not that we fear anything from her; but that we are obliged to watch her for the benefit of our big brothers across the border. Now you know why I advised you to let the fire alone."

      King was silent for a moment, turning something over in his head.

      "Baron, are you sure that she is a Red?"

      "Quite. She attended their councils."

      "She doesn't look it, 'pon my word. I thought they were the scum of the earth."

      "The kind you have in America are. But over here—oh, well, we never can tell."

      "I don't mind saying she interests me. She's pretty—and I have an idea she's clever. Baron, let me understand you. Do you mean that this is a polite way of commanding me to have nothing to do with her?"

      "You put it broadly. In the first place, I am quite sure she will have nothing to do with you. She loved the husband of the scrawny duchess. You, my good friend, handsome as you are, cannot interest her, believe me."

      "I daresay you're right," glumly.

      "I am merely warning you. Young men of your age and temperament sometimes let their fancies lead them into desperate predicaments. I've no doubt you can take care of yourself, but—" he paused, as if very much in doubt.

      "I'm much obliged. And I'll keep my eyes well opened. I suppose there's no harm in my going to the shop to look at a lot of rings and knick-knacks he has for sale?"

      "Not in the least. Confine yourself to knick-knacks, that's all."

      "Isn't Spantz above suspicion?"

      "No one is in my little world. By the way, I am very fond of your father. He is a most excellent gentleman and a splendid shot."

      Truxton stared harder than ever. "What's that?"

      "I know him quite well. Hunted wild boars with him five years ago in Germany. And your sister! She was a beautiful young girl. They were at Carlsbad at the time. Was she quite well when you last heard?"

      "She was," was all that the wondering brother could say.

      "Well, come in and see me at the tower. I am there in the mornings. Come as a caller, not as a prisoner, that's all." The Baron cackled at his little jest. "Au revoir! Till we meet again." They were shaking hands in the friendliest manner. "Oh, by the way, you were good enough to change your mind to-day about the personal attractiveness of our ladies. Permit me to observe, in return, that not a few of our most distinguished beauties were good enough to make inquiries as to your identity."

      He left the American standing at the head of the steps, gazing after his retreating figure with a look of admiration in his eyes.

      Truxton fared forth into the streets that night with a greater zest in life than he had ever known before. Some thing whispered insistently to his fancy that dreariness was a thing of the past; he did not have to whistle to keep up his spirits. They were soaring of their own accord.

      He did not know, however, that a person from the secret service was watching his every movement. Nor, on the other hand, is it at all likely that the secret service operative was aware that he was not the only shadower of the blithe young stranger.

      A man with a limp cigarette between his lips was never far from the side of the American—a man who had stopped to pass the time of day with William Spantz, and who, from that hour was not to let the young man out of his sight until another relieved him of the task.

CHAPTER IV

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TRUXTON TRESPASSES

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      He went to bed that night, tired and happy. To his revived spirits and his new attitude toward life in its present state, the city had suddenly turned gay and vivacious. Twice during the evening he passed Spantz's shop. It was dark, upstairs and down. He wondered if the unhappy Olga was looking at him from behind the darkened shutters. But even if she were not—la, la! He was having a good time! He was gay! He was seeing pretty women in the cafés and the gardens! Well, well, he would see her to-morrow—after that he would give proper heed to the Baron's warning! An anarchist's daughter!

      He slept well, too, with never a thought of the Saturday express which he had lain awake on other nights to lament and anathematise. Bright and early in the morning he was astir. Somehow he felt he had been sleeping too much of late.

      There was a sparkle in his eyes as he struck out across town after breakfast. He burst in upon Mr. Hobbs at Cook's.

      "Say, Hobbs, how about the Castle to-day—in an hour, say? Can you take a party of one rubbernecking this A.M.? I like you, Hobbs. You are the best interpreter of English I've ever seen. I can't help understanding you, no matter how hard I try not to. I want you to get me into the Castle grounds to-day and show me where the duchesses dawdle and the countesses cavort. I'm ashamed to say it, Hobbs, but since yesterday I've quite lost interest in the middle classes and the component parts thereof. I have suddenly acquired a thirst for champagne—in other words, I have a hankering for the nobility. Catch the idea? Good!