"Is there no scandal regarding her?" I inquired eagerly, well knowing that in Paris no woman is considered really _chic_ without some story being whispered about her. "None," replied the renowned investigator of Anarchist conspiracies. "I have the pleasure of knowing Her Highness, and I have always found her a most estimable young lady. There is, however," he added, "some curious romance, I believe, connected with her earlier life." "A romance?" cried Cargill. "Do tell us all about it." "Ah, unfortunately I do not know the details," answered the old Frenchman, suddenly exhibiting his palms. "It was alleged once by somebody I met officially--who it was, I really forget. She lived for years in England, and is a cosmopolitan thoroughly, besides being one of the richest women in Paris." "Is it true that she sometimes goes into the low quarters of the city and gives money to the poor?" I asked him, for this love of midnight adventure accounted for Ella's strange penchant for rambling alone at night that had once caused me so much perturbation. "Certainly. With her, philanthropy is a fad. I accompanied her on several occasions last year," he replied. "She attired herself in an old, worn-out dress of one of her maids, and disguised herself most effectually. On each night she distributed about five thousand francs with her own hands. Indeed, so well-known is she in certain quarters that I believe she might go there alone with perfect safety. However, when she is going we always know at the Prefecture, and take precautions. It would not do for us to allow anything to happen to an Imperial Highness," he added. "Of course not," observed Cargill, adding with the diplomatic instinct, "Of course. Not in view of the Franco-Russian Alliance," an observation at which we all three laughed merrily. "Has she a lover?" inquired Allender, turning to Monsieur Goron. "I think not," the other replied. "I never heard of one. Indeed, I have never heard her accused of flirtation with anybody." "Tell me, m'sieur," I asked, "are you acquainted with a Russian named Ivan Renouf, who is, I believe, in the secret service." "Renouf!" he repeated, glancing quickly at me with his steel-blue eyes. "Yes, I have met him. He is in Paris at the present moment. Whether he is in the actual service of the Tzar's Government I don't know, but one thing is certain, namely, that he is a blackmailer and a scoundrel," he added frankly. "What offence has he committed?" I asked, eager to learn some fact to his detriment.