“Then, I’m trying to tell you all I may. I am trying to tell you enough of the truth to make you reflect very seriously.
“This is no ordinary private matter, no vulgar attempt at robbery and crime as you think—or pretend to think—for you are very intelligent, Mr. Neeland, and you know that the contrary is true.
“This affair concerns the secret police, the embassies, the chancelleries, the rulers themselves of nations long 233 since grouped into two formidable alliances radically hostile to one another.
“I don’t think you have understood—perhaps even yet you do not understand why the papers you carry are so important to certain governments—why it is impossible that you be permitted to deliver them to the Princess Mistchenka––”
“Where did you ever hear of her!” he demanded in astonishment.
The girl smiled:
“Dear Mr. Neeland, I know the Princess Mistchenka better, perhaps, than you do.”
“Do you?”
“Indeed I do. What do you know about her? Nothing at all except that she is handsome, attractive, cultivated, amusing, and apparently wealthy.
“You know her as a traveller, a patroness of music and the fine arts—as a devotee of literature, as a graceful hostess, and an amiable friend who gives promising young artists letters of introduction to publishers who are in a position to offer them employment.”