“The facts are very easily stated,” said the priest.  “First, the young lady is my niece.”

It was the Minister’s boast—­privately, understand—­that he could always tell when a man believed himself to be telling the truth, and now—­past master in the art of diplomacy though he was—­he found it hard to conceal his shocked surprise at this confirmation of the girl’s story.

“You say she left her home unexpectedly?”

“She was seized by two men and hurried to a waiting auto, Your Excellency.”

“And this happened where?”

“At Sihasset.  Your Excellency passed through there quite recently, and will probably remember it.”

The half-closed eyes almost smiled.

“Had your niece lived there long?”

“Only a few months.  She arrived less than a week before her visitor.”

Outwardly the Minister was calm, unmoved; but underneath the cold exterior the lurking fear was growing stronger.  He must know more—­all.

“Before that—?”

“She came direct from England, where she was visiting relatives.”

“She was educated there perhaps?”

“She received her education principally in Europe.”

“She has traveled much, then?”

“She has spent most of her time in America since I came here; but she has many friends both in England and on the Continent, and visits them quite frequently.  She has very special friends in San Sebastian.”

“Ah!”

“Perhaps Your Excellency knows something about it now?”

“Nothing, I assure you.  But I find your story very interesting, and regret that I can see no way of assisting you.”

Father Murray perfectly understood the kind of man he was dealing with.  He must speak more plainly, suggesting in some degree the extent of his knowledge.

“I see, Your Excellency, that it will be necessary for me to mention another name, or rather to mention a title.  There are, in your Great Kingdom, dependent duchies, and therefore people called grand dukes, and others called grand duchesses.  Does that help Your Excellency to understand?”

The Minister still had control of himself, though he was greatly worried.

“It does not, Reverend Sir,” he answered, “unless you might possibly be able to introduce me to a grand duchess in America.  I am always interested in my countrymen—­and women.  If a grand duchess were brought here—­that is,” he corrected himself, smiling courteously, “if a grand duchess should call to see me, I should be glad to place my entire staff at your service to find the Ruth Atheson you speak of.  Perhaps your Reverence understands?”

“Thoroughly,” said Father Murray.  “I could not fail to understand.  But it would be difficult for me to bring a grand duchess to call on you, since the only one I have ever known is, unfortunately, dead.”

At last the Minister lost his sang froid.  His face was colorless.