"I did my best," I observed, perhaps a trifle carelessly, for there was another matter upon which I was anxious to consult my eccentric benefactor. "The task was one of unusual difficulty, I admit, Deedes, and you have shown yourself fully qualified for a post abroad. You shall have one before long." At other times I should have warmly welcomed the enthusiasm of this speech, and thanked him heartily for the promise of a more lucrative position, but now, crushed and hopeless, I felt that joy had left my soul for ever, and merely replied,-- "I am quite satisfied to be as I am. I do not care for the Continent." "Why?" he inquired, surprised. "If you remain in the Service here you will have but little chance of distinguishing yourself, whereas in Rome, Constantinople or Berlin, you might obtain chances of promotion." "I have been already in St Petersburg, you remember," I said. "Ah, of course. But you didn't get on very well there," he said. "It is a difficult staff for younger men to work amongst. You'd be more comfortable in Vienna, perhaps. Viennese society would suit you, wouldn't it?" "No," I replied, very gravely. "I fear that henceforward I shall be, like yourself, a hater of society and all its ways." "Oh?" he exclaimed, placing his hands beneath his coat-tails, a habit of his when about to enter any earnest consultation. "Why?" "Well, if you desire to know the truth," I said, "it concerns my marriage." "Ah, of course!" he observed, with deep sorrow. "I had quite forgotten that unfortunate affair. Yet time will cause you to forget. You are young, remember, Deedes--very young, compared with an old stager like myself." "It is scarcely likely that I shall forget so easily," I said, after a slight pause. "Since I have been in Paris I have made a discovery that has bewildered me. I confide in you because you are the only person who knows the secret of my wife's flight." "Quite right," he said, regarding me with those piercing eyes shaded by their grey shaggy, brows. "If I can assist you or give you advice I am always pleased, for the romance of your marriage is the strangest I have ever known." "Yes," I acquiesced, "and the truth I have accidentally learnt still stranger. I have discovered that my wife was never Ella Laing, as I had believed, but that she really is the Grand Duchess Elizaveta Nicolayevna of Russia." "The Grand Duchess!" he cried, amazed, his eyes aflame in an instant. "Are you certain of this; have you absolute proof?" "Absolute. I have seen her, and she has admitted it, and told me that she masqueraded in England as Ella Laing because she desired to avoid Court etiquette for a time," I said. "Grodekoff lied," he growled in an ebullition of anger. "I recognised her at the Embassy ball when you pointed her out, yet the Ambassador assured me that Her Highness was at that moment in Russia. We have both been tricked, Deedes. But he who laughs last laughs longest."