“This shows it is a success,” she murmured. “I was so careful that hardly a whiff of the gas could escape. Yet, even after spraying the room as I did, it almost overcame me. It is better than the other stuff I used, I am sure. I’ll put this to the proof to-night, if I get a chance--and I think I shall.” Opening the window wider, she stood there, ruminating, a curious smile on her beautiful young face. “Nicholas Carter! As if it would be possible for me not to know him because he chooses to call himself Colonel Pearson and assumes an indolent manner that is not his own at all! And I have been playing golf and dining with him! Well, it is all in the game! He says himself he does not know how our next game is to come out. We shall see.” She went out of the bathroom and told Florine to put everything away. This order was obeyed so thoroughly and swiftly, that in about five minutes nothing was to be seen in the bathroom to suggest the experiment just carried on. The open window had allowed the last breath of the noxious vapor to escape, and none of the paraphernalia was in sight. The glass experimenting table had been folded up and put away, and the electric stove, crucible, and retorts had gone with it, each being packed away into its own particular recess in the trunks. Only the steel case--tubelike, as was the glass bottle of deadly vapor inside--was placed in a black leather bag, which snapped shut with a patent spring lock. This bag the baroness put into another trunk with her own hands. She would not trust even Florine to do anything with the bottle in its steel case. For two hours she sat in the darkness, peering out to sea, where the lights of the yacht could be seen blinking uncertainly. She did not talk to her maid, although Florine was in the room, and, although quite quiet, was wide awake. It seemed as if there must be something more than the ordinary relations of mistress and maid between them, for Florine made no complaint of the long vigil. Neither did the baroness take any notice of her, as she might have done if there had been no mutual understanding. “Lock the door after me when I go out, Florine,” were the words with which the Baroness Latour at last broke the silence. “And be ready to let me in quickly when I return.” “Very well.” Florine made this response in a low, colorless voice. There was no surprise at the baroness going secretly from her rooms at midnight, nor at her giving these orders about the door. It seemed as if she knew what her employer had in hand, and was in thorough accord with the proceedings. The baroness had taken off the gingham gown she had worn in the makeshift laboratory, and had replaced it with a house dress of costly material, but which was made up rather plainly. Over this gown she slipped a voluminous black cloak. Then she went over to the trunk in which she had placed the black bag, and drew the bag forth. “The door is locked, Florine?” she asked, without turning her head.