"Cool off, old man. People are staring at you. It's not a long story. Brabetz was shot three weeks ago at a hotel in Brussels. He'd been living there for two months, more or less, with the woman. In fact, he left Paris almost immediately after he was married to the Princess Genevra. The gossip is that she wouldn't live with him. She'd found out what sort of a dog he was. They didn't have a honeymoon and they didn't attempt a bridal tour. Somehow, they kept the scandal out of the papers. Well, he hiked out of Paris at the end of a week, just before the 14th. The police had asked the woman to leave town. He followed. Dope fiend, they say. The bride went into seclusion at once. She's never to be seen anywhere. The woman shot him through the head and then took a fine dose of poison. They tried to save her life, but couldn't. It was a ripping news story. The prominence of the----" "This was a month ago?" demanded Chase, trying to fix something in his mind. "Then it was _after_ the yacht left Marseilles with orders to pick me up at Aratat." "What are you talking about? Sure it was, if the yacht left Marseilles six weeks ago. What's that got to do with it?" "Nothing. Don't mind me, Arch. I'm a bit upset." "There was talk of a divorce almost before the wedding bells ceased ringing. The Grand Duke got his eyes opened when it was too late. He repented of the marriage. The Princess was obliged to live in Paris for a certain length of time before applying to the courts for freedom. 'Gad, I'll stake my head she's happy these days!" Chase was silent for a long time. He was quite cool and composed when at last he turned to his friend. "Arch, do me a great favour. Look out for Selim and Neenah. Take 'em to the hotel and see that they get settled. I'll join you this evening. Don't ask questions, but put me down here. I'll take another cab. There's a good fellow. I'll explain soon. I'm--I'm going somewhere and I'm in a hurry." * * * * * The _voiture_ drew up before the historic old palace in the Boulevard St. Germain. Chase's heart was beating furiously as he stepped to the curb. The _cocher_ leaned forward for instructions. His fare hesitated for a moment, swayed by a momentary indecision. "_Attendre_" he said finally. The driver adjusted his register and settled back to wait. Then Chase mounted the steps and lifted the knocker with trembling fingers. He was dizzy with eagerness, cold with uncertainty. She had asked him to come to her--but conditions were not the same as when she sent the compelling message. There had come into her life a vital break, a change that altered everything. What was it to mean to him?