Old Drost seemed highly delighted at securing the exact replica of the broken ornament. "Excellent!" he said. "Excellent! Really, my dear child, I thought that you would have had to get it made. And making things in war-time is such a very long process." "I had a little trouble, but I at last got a clue to where they had been bought, and there, sure enough, they had one pair still in stock." "Excellent! Excellent!" he grunted, and he carried off both the pattern vase and its companion to his little den where he usually did his writing. That same evening, while the taxi was at the door to take Ella to the theatre, the Count called. "Ah! Fraulein!" he cried, as he entered the dining-room where Ella stood ready dressed in her smart coat and hat, as became one who had been so successful in her profession and drew such a handsome salary, much to the envy of her less fortunate fellow-artistes. "Why--you're quite a stranger--always away at the theatre whenever I call. I took some friends from the club to see you the night before last. That new waltz-song of yours is really most delightful--so catchy," he added, speaking in German. "Do you like it?" asked the bright, athletic girl who led such a strange semi-Bohemian life, and was yet filled with constant suspicion concerning her father. "At first I did not like singing it, because I objected to some of the lines. But I see now that everyone seems attracted by it." "No, Fraulein Ella!" exclaimed the Count, with his exquisite courtesy. "The public are not attracted by the song, but by your own _chic_ and charm." "Now, really, Count," exclaimed Ella, "this is too bad of you! If one of my stall-admirers had said so I would forgive him. But, surely, you know me too well to think that I care for flattery from you. I have been too long on the stage, I assure you. To me applause is merely part of the show. I expect it, and smile and bow when the house claps. It does not fill me with the least personal pride, I assure you. When I first went on the stage it certainly did. But to-day, after being all these years before the public--" "All these years!" echoed Ortmann, interrupting her. "Why, you are not much more than twenty now, Ella!" "And think, I've already been twelve years on the stage--a life hard enough, I can tell you!" "Yes, I know," remarked the Count. "But you'll forget all about your friend Commander Kennedy some day, I expect, and marry a wealthy man." Ella's eyebrows contracted for a few seconds. "Well--perhaps," she said. "But I may yet marry Mr Kennedy, you know!" Count Ernst Ortmann smiled--a hard evil expression upon his heavy lips. He held Seymour Kennedy in distinct suspicion. Indeed, when Ella had gone and he was standing with old Drost in the dining-room, he remarked: