was a duchess—­and she deserved to be if ever any girl did.  Then all of a sudden their money had given out and the Duke had been arrested for not paying their hotel bill.  Perhaps I would like to see a newspaper clipping?  It was dreadful!  She was ashamed to be seen anywhere after that.  She had even been obliged to pawn his cross of the Legion of Honor, the Leopold Cross of Belgium, and another beautiful decoration which he had been accustomed to wear when they went out to dinner.  This was the clipping: 

    CHICAGO SOCIETY THE DUPE OF BOGUS COUNT

    HOTEL AND SEVERAL WHILOM FRIENDS FILLED WITH REGRET—­THE “COUNT”
    ARRESTED

Chicago, Jan. 29.—­“Count Charles Julius Francois de Nevers” was in the Police court to-day for defrauding the Auditorium Annex of a board bill.  The Count came to the French Consul, M. Henri Meron, amply supplied with credentials.  He posed as Consulting Engineer of the United States Steel Corporation.  He was introduced into all the clubs, including the Alliance Francaise, where he was entertained and spoke on literature.

    He was accompanied by a charming young “Countess,” and the honors
    showered upon them and the adulation paid by society tuft-hunters
    was something they will never forget.

    They returned the entertainments.  The Count borrowed several
    thousand dollars.

    President Furber, of the Olympic Games, said to-day of the “Count:” 

“This man confided to me that he had invented a machine for perpetual motion, the chief difficulty of which was that it accumulated energy so fast that it could not be controlled.  He asked me to invest in some of his schemes, which I refused to do.”

    The fate of the Count is still pending and he was led back to a
    cell.  He has been a week behind the bars.  The “Countess” is in
    tears.

“The Countess is me,” she explained.

“Was he sent to prison?” I asked.

“Oh, no,” she answered.  “You see they really couldn’t tell whether he was a Count or not, so they had to let him go.”

“He ought to be hung!” I cried.

“I really think he ought,” she answered.  “You see it is quite embarrassing, because legally I have never been married at all, have I?”

“I don’t know,” I answered, lying like a gentleman.  “Time enough to look that up later.”

“I found out afterwards,” she said, apparently somewhat encouraged, “that his first wife was a nurse maid in London.”

“Yes,” said I, “he told me so himself.”

Just then there came a knock at my door and O’Toole appeared.

“How are you, Counsellor,” he said with a grin.  “You know Charley Nevers, well, av all the pious frauds!  Say, Counsellor, ain’t he the cute feller!  What do you suppose, now?  I got his record to-day.  Cast yer eye over it.”

I did.  This is it: