“He might have been a foreigner--an Italian or German--for aught you know?” the detective suggested. “No,” I answered reflectively. “His gestures were French. I believe that he was actually French.” “And the bogus police agents?” “They too were French, undoubtedly. It would have been impossible to deceive the Director of the Casino, himself a Frenchman.” “Mademoiselle is quite right. I will at once see M’sieur le Directeur and hear his statement. It is best,” he added, “that the matter should remain a profound secret. Do not mention it, either of you, even to your nearest friends. Publicity might very probably render futile all our inquiries.” “I understand,” I said. “And mademoiselle will say no word to any one about it?” I glanced at Ulrica inquiringly. “Certainly,” she answered. “If m’sieur wishes the affair shall be kept secret.” Then, after some further discussion, the police officer thanked us, gave us an assurance of his most profound respect, and, accompanied by his silent subordinate, withdrew. “After all,” I remarked when they had gone, “it will be best, perhaps, to say nothing whatever to Gerald. He might mention it incautiously, and thus it might get into the papers.” “Yes, my dear,” answered Ulrica, “perhaps silence is best. But the trick played upon you passes comprehension. I don’t like the aspect of affairs at all, and if it were not for the fact that we have so many friends here in Nice, and that it is just the centre of the season, I should suggest the packing of our trunks.” “We shall leave soon,” I said, “as soon as the yachting party is complete.” That same night after our trip to Tourette we accompanied the Allens, a middle-aged American and his wife, who lived in Paris, over to Monte Carlo. The Battle of Flowers had taken place there during the day, and that event always marks the zenith of the gaming season. The Rooms were crowded, and the dresses, always magnificent at night, were more daring than ever. Half of fashionable Europe seemed there, including an English Royal Highness and a crowd of notables. One of De Lara’s operas was being played in the Casino theatre, and his works, being great favorites there, always attract a full house. The display of jewels at the tables was that night the most dazzling I had ever seen. Some women, mostly gay Parisiennes or arrogant Russians, seemed literally covered with diamonds, and as they stood around one risking their louis or five-franc pieces, it seemed strange that with jewels of that worth upon them they should descend to play with such paltry stakes. But many women at Monte Carlo play merely because it is the correct thing so to do, and very often are careless of either loss or gain.