“I dare not tell you, Princess; not until my project proves a success or a failure. We women—some have our way made for us—others have our own way to make. I am among the others, and I hope you will remember that, if you are ever angry with me.”
“Is it a new kind of speculation? A fortune made in a day? Gambling?”
“Something of that sort. I am going to stake a good deal on the turn of a card; so please pray that luck will not be against me.”
“If pluck will make you win, I am sure you will carry it through, but if at first you don’t succeed, try, try again; and if you haven’t the money, I’ll supply the capital. I know I should like to gamble. Anyhow, you have my best wishes for your success.”
“Thank you, Princess. I can hardly fail after that.”
The time had come when the two friends must part. The carriage was waiting to take Miss Baxter to the station, and the girl bade good-bye to her hostess with an uneasy feeling that she was acting disloyally to one who had befriended her. In her handbag was the invitation to the ball, and also the letter she had written in the Princess’s name accepting it, which latter she posted in Meran. In due course she reached London, and presented herself to the editor of the Daily Bugle.
“Well, Miss Baxter,” he said, “you have been extraordinarily successful in solving the diamond mystery, and I congratulate you. My letter reached you, I suppose. Have you given any thought to the problem that now confronts us? Can you get us a full report of the Duchess of Chiselhurst’s ball, written so convincingly that all the guests who read it will know that the writer was present?”
“It is entirely a question of money, Mr. Hardwick.”
“Most things are. Well, we are prepared to spend money to get just what we want.”
“How much?”