When Julian Estcourt entered the public drawing-room, nearly two hours after he had left it, several curious eyes turned towards him. The card-players had finished their game and broken up into various groups. A few men were yawning and apparently meditating a retreat to the smoking-room. No one seemed particularly energetic, but the entrance of that tall soldierly figure struck a new note of interest in the languid assemblage. He seemed to bring--as it were--a breeze of vitality, a sense of freshness and energy along with him from the starlit air and the pine-scented woods. His head was erect, his eyes shone with the radiance of happiness, a certain sense of pride--of triumph--and yet of deep intense content, was in his aspect and his smile. Mrs Ray Jefferson, her spirits still unimpaired by losses at "poker," was the first to remark audibly on the change. "Why, Colonel!" she said. "Have _you_ been having a Turkish Bath? Guess you look as fresh and perky as if you'd taken a new lease of life." He laughed. "The only bath I have taken," he said, "is one of moonlight. You should all be out on the terrace. Far healthier and more enjoyable than these hot, gas-lit rooms, I assure you." "The terrace," said Mrs Jefferson, looking at him with a sudden stern accusing glance. "Ladies and gentlemen, what did I tell you? I--do-- believe--" She paused dramatically, every eye turned fully and searchingly upon the handsome face and erect figure so calmly and easily confronting this sudden criticism. "Well?" he said at last. "What is it you believe?" "You've seen--her," burst out Mrs Jefferson eagerly. "Now Colonel, no tricks--plain yes or no; I'm certain sure you've seen her--my Mystery. Haven't you?" "I will not pretend," he said, "to misunderstand you. I have met an old friend, and I hope soon to have the pleasure of introducing her to you all. Not with any mystery about her, as our American friend seems determined to suppose, but simply as the Princess Zairoff--of whom you may have heard before this." There was a buzz--a stir--a confused murmur. "Heard of her--I should think so. You never mean to say she's _here_? I thought she was in Russia--" "Gracious!" almost shrieked Mrs Jefferson. "Why it was her husband who died so mysteriously, on the eve of that awful conspiracy. You never mean to say, Colonel Estcourt, that you know her. Why she's one of the celebrities of Europe, and to come here, to this quiet place--and _incognito_?" "Do you not think," he said, "that the fact of being quiet and unknown would just be the one fact she would appreciate? I hope I am not claiming too much from your courtesy when I say that the privilege of her society can only be obtained by a due regard to her wishes in that respect. She wishes only to be known as Madame Zairoff, here." "I'm sure," exclaimed Mrs Jefferson eagerly, "I'm only too willing to promise anything for the privilege of seeing her. Isn't that the general opinion also?"