“Then I’ll wager I know where they are!”
“Where?”
“In the Hôtel des Bulgars, rue Vilna. That’s where they are to operate a gaming house. That is where they expect to pluck and fleece the callow and the aged who may have anything of political importance about them worth stealing. That is their plan. Agents, 302 officials, employees of all consulates, legations, and embassies are what they’re really after. I heard them discussing it there in the train today.”
The Princess had fallen very silent, musing, watching Neeland’s animated face as he detailed his knowledge of what had occurred.
“Why not notify the police?” he added. “There might be a chance to recover the box and the papers.”
The Princess shook her pretty head.
“We have to be very careful how we use the police, James. It seems simple, but it is not. I can’t explain the reasons, but we usually pit spy against spy, and keep very clear of the police. Otherwise,” she added, smiling, “there would be the deuce to pay among the embassies and legations.” She added: “It’s a most depressing situation; I don’t exactly know what to do.... I have letters to write, anyway––”
She rose, turned to Rue and took both her hands:
“No; you must go back to New York and to your painting and music if there is to be war in Europe. But you have had a taste of what goes on in certain circles here; you have seen what a chain of consequences ensue from a chance remark of a young girl at a dinner table.”
“Yes.”