For a moment she did not open it, though he waited, smiling. She was conscious of the movement of the train, of the white flakes flashing past the window, half obscuring the rolling, tree-crowned hills that were fast merging into mountains; of the smell of the Pullman car,—a combination of steam-heated varnish and dusty upholstery—and most of all of Terry, seated opposite her, a half eager, half amused light dancing in his eyes. “It’s rather an odd gift to give a woman,” he said as she hesitated. She opened the box now, realizing herself more than anything else, as the central figure in a little drama. Inside she found a leather case—pale blue leather, more fit to contain jewels than a weapon of defence, and inside that the tiniest revolver she had ever seen, an exquisite thing with gold mountings. “Will—will it really shoot?” she gasped. “And it must have been horribly expensive—you shouldn’t have done it.” Her pleasure was so apparent in her face that her words, which she felt were ill chosen, did not really matter. “Of course it will shoot; and it’s loaded now, so please do be careful. Here, I’ll show you how it works—see, you open it this way, and here’s the way to empty the shells out—you see there are six—this revolves so that when you’ve shot one the next one moves into place all ready; it’s quite as deadly as a big one, I assure you. Do you think you’ll feel quite safe with this?” “It isn’t myself I want to protect,” she answered, and just then, she saw Prince Aglipogue returning, and some instinct prompted her to take the gun from his hands and put it back in its case and conceal it behind her. She need not have concealed it, for Prince Aglipogue was in no mood to observe details. His oily, black eyes were standing out in his head and his face had turned a sickly green. His three chins seemed to be trembling with fright. “That nigger of Gloria’s; he’s in the baggage car with a snake—a snake as big as”—he threw out his fat arms as if he could think of no word to describe the size of the snake. His voice was a thin whisper. “You must the conductor tell—it is not allowed. They do not know the trunk’s contents—I tell you I am speaking truth—a snake—as big as the engine—will you do nothing?” He grasped Terry’s shoulder and shook him. “It’s all right. We know all about it. Miss Mayfield knew he was bringing it. He uses it in his vaudeville stunts.” “I tell you I will not go on—to travel with a snake—it is horrible.” “He’s always had it,” soothed Terry. “It was in the house on Gramercy Square and never came out and bit any one. I guess you’re safe.” “If I had known——” He shuddered through all his fat frame and rolled his eyes upward. “How is he taking it?” asked Terry. “It’s bad enough to travel with a pet dog, but what one does with a pet snake I don’t know, and I’ve been curious.”