"How do you do, Colonel Stelzner?" she replied. Then inquiringly: "You have met Mr. Ashton-Kirk?"
"I have met him, yes, but I have not before caught the name." Colonel Stelzner bowed until his gleaming scalp was fully in view. "It gratifies me, sir, to know so famous a person," he concluded.
"Ah, you, too, have heard of him?" Mrs. Pendleton smiled, mischievously. The little German again waved his hand.
"Who has not?" he demanded. "Every one," authoritatively, "on both sides of the ocean. That is," and the hand was held up as though begging a moment's delay in her judgment, "every one who is interested such matters in."
Here Pendleton came up with some friends to whom he presented the secret agent; a few moments later a man-servant approached the latter and said something to him. Ashton-Kirk asked to be pardoned and followed the servant out of the room. But Mrs. Pendleton took no notice of all this; she gave all her attention to the little German. He polished his glittering scalp and chuckled.
"Most secret agents," he went on, "are unknown to the public. They cherish the fancy that they are also unknown to the diplomatic corps; but it is only fancy. Those who are unknown personally are recognized by their methods. Ach ja! They are as open as the day. A man who no eyes has could see it! But he"—and he indicated the spot where Ashton-Kirk had stood with one plump forefinger—"there is one who is not like the others. No, no," he shook his head and his chuckle grew more pronounced, "he is much different."
Ashton-Kirk returned in a few moments, and was soon talking generally with Pendleton's friends, who were mostly young people who laughed a great deal. And while he did not miss a word of what was said, neither did he once take his eyes from that point where Stella Corbin still sat. With her was a small, vivacious, pretty woman, undoubtedly French, whose gestures were most eloquent and the play of whose eyes alone was almost sufficient to tell a close observer what she was saying. Some little distance away was a heavy jowled man with thick black brows and a slow way of turning his small head; in close conversation with him was a slighter man, blond, and with a short, pointed beard. And, for all their apparent occupation in each other's words, their glances kept constantly going toward Miss Corbin and her companion; each movement made by them seemed a matter of intense interest.
And in this they were not alone. Behind where the girl sat ran a massive marble staircase which led to a sort of balcony, palm-lined and used as a resting-place by tired dancers, and a point of vantage by those who merely desired to look on. At the top of the staircase, seated beneath a wide-spreading and flowering plant, were Matsadi, and—yes, it was Okiu!
Fuller caught sight of this latter pair much about the same time as his employer. The secret agent nodded in answer to the young man's low, surprised whisper.
"Yes, I just noticed them," he said.