“Listen,” said she.  “For many years I have known Armand Dalberg.  One day, several months ago, there came a man to me, in the City of New York.  How he happened to find me is no matter.  He spoke English perfectly—­though I thought he was a Frenchman.  The name on his card was Herbert Wilkes; but, I knew that was assumed, and I have learned, lately, who he is.  Since you, too, know, it is quite unnecessary to repeat it.  His offer to me was this:  If I would go immediately to Dornlitz and publicly claim the American, Armand Dalberg—­who had just been restored to his rightful place as a Grand Duke of Valeria—­as my husband, I was to receive an enormous sum of money (the amount Your Highness also knows) and all expenses.  I accepted instantly, mainly for the money; but, also, to satisfy a personal grudge I had against Major Dalberg.  I made the one condition, however, that a marriage certificate must be procured—­the date for which I gave; choosing one on which I happened to know Major Dalberg was in New York.  And it was done.  How, I neither knew nor cared.  One-half the money was given me in advance—­the balance to be paid the day I executed my mission.  I received it the morning following that scene at the Grand Duke’s supper party at the Hanging Garden.  And, God knows, I earned every cent of it!  I was guaranteed protection while in Valeria, and to be at liberty to depart one week after I had made the public assertion of the marriage and had exhibited the certificate.”

She paused.

“Now, perchance, Your Highness understands the matter,” she added, and smiled sweetly.

He flecked the ash from his cigarette and shook his head.

“I understand no more than I did at first, how this plot against the Grand Duke Armand affects me,” he said.

“Of course, it may not occur to Your Highness—­but it doubtless would to the King—­who, of all living creatures, would be most benefited and who most injured by my marriage story.  However, if you are not my employer, then, it will not hurt you.  And, as I cannot imagine who else it could be, I shall simply fling the whole business overboard; go to the Governor to-morrow; tell the truth; endorse on the marriage certificate the fact of its falseness; give it to him—­and take the first train for Paris—­And, I fancy, I shall read the betrothal notice of the Princess Royal of Valeria and the Grand Duke Armand before I’ve been there a week.”

Lotzen got up and went over to her.

“Do you know you are a very clever woman?” he said.

She looked archly up at him.

“You will enable me to escape?” she asked.

He took her hand—­and, this time, it was not withdrawn.

“I will do my best,” he said; “but, it’s a fierce risk for me.  If detected, it would mean, at the very least, a year’s banishment.”

She smiled.

“It would mean something more than that if I told my story,” she said.