A Princess of the Balkans/Chapter 3

CHAPTER III.

"Nom de Dieu!" gasped Dallas. "No essence!"

"Impossible, m'sieu!" cried the mécanicien. "I filled the tanks this afternoon."

"Then there must be a leak," snarled Dallas, pale and furious. "It was the escaping essence which we smelled in the garage."

"That cannot be, m'sieu. The tank and piping are new. The essence in the garage came from an overturned bidon. I found it myself, still with the essence——"

"Then what the devil is it? I tell you that there is no essence!"

He leaped down upon the road; Sir James did likewise, and the mécanicien produced a measure. A hasty examination showed that the tank was empty.

"It is just as I said," snarled Dallas, furious more at the sudden and unexpected relaxation from his high, nervous exhilaration than at the predicament in which they found themslves. "Get out of the way!" He himself examined the drip cock before the mécanicien could touch it. The tap was firmly closed.

"Then it must be a leak," he growled.

"Impossible, m'sieu," protested the unhappy man.

"Then what is it?"

The mécanicien pulled off his cap and scratched his head. His birdlike face betrayed a growing suspicion.

"If some one at the hotel could have stolen our essence——" he began, then broke out explosively: "But the garage was locked! No one could have got in but that camel of a chauffeur of the prince."

"Um! Ah!" observed Sir James pensively. Dallas' face was torn between rage and doubt.

"I have heard of such things," he muttered. "What sort of a pig was he, Armand?"

"I think that he was Hungarian, m'sieu, and a big, ugly brute of a fellow. He was not at all amiable."

"What a beastly low trick," said Sir James calmly, "to leave us stranded for a few francs' worth of petrol!"

Dallas compressed his lips and held his peace. He was far too enraged to express himself appropriately with ladies in the tonneau. The latter had made no comment, but sat awaiting developments in the bewildered silence peculiar to passengers when things go wrong with the motor.

They had stopped on a deserted section of the road, so far as one could discover. Across the bleak, rolling hills a light or two sparkled from some farmhouse, but there was no sign of town or village. Although they were on the highway, it was very possible that they might have to wait for some time before another motor car should pass, as in France automobiling at night is not the popular pastime it is in America, where so many men are engaged in business affairs throughout the day.

In the glare of the lamps, Dallas consulted his road map, and discovered that there was a village about three kilometers ahead of them. He turned to his mécanicien.

"You will have to walk to this place, Saint Croix, Armand," said he. "You will certainly find petrol there. Get a few bidons, and then secure a carriage and return as quickly as you can. If a car arrives in the meantime, we will try to borrow enough to go after you."

The mécanicien hurried off, and Dallas turned to the ladies.

"This is very annoying," said he, "but it ought not to delay us for very long. It looks as if some scoundrel, possibly that animal of the Prince Emilio, has stolen our petrol. It seems to be my unfortunate destiny to try to rescue the Lady Thalia in boats without oars and motor cars without fuel."

"It is not your fault," replied the girl. "The night is lovely, and we are so happy to have made our escape from Emilio and that dreadful Rosenthal that the delay does not matter. I am only sorry to make you so much trouble."

"The moonlight is delicious," murmured the Polish lady, who had pushed up her lunettes.

"I say," observed Sir James, who, being young and British, turned naturally to physical effort as a means of killing time, "wouldn't you like to get out and stretch your—um—ah—take a little stroll?"

"Yes," said Dallas, with irony; "you've had no exercise to-day, barring an hour's swim and shifting half the water in the Channel."

"Nevertheless," said the Lady Thalia, "I should love a little walk."

"And I," said the countess, "a cigarette."

Sir James threw open the door of the tonneau, and handed out the Lady Thalia as if she had been a creation of moon webs and spun glass.

"We will walk down the road a bit, Stephen," said he. "If anything happens, blow your horn."

Dallas grunted, and, pulling out his cigarette case, offered it to the countess, then struck a match, and was forced to admire the glow of the flame against the girl's fresh, lovely features. She threw back her head, and blew the smoke slowly into the face of the outraged moon.

"Tell me," said she, "do you really mean to take us all the way to Turkey?"

"Turkey!"

"Yes, Novibazar—that is a Turkish sanjak, you know, although under Austrian administration."

"I didn't know. Do you want me to take you there?" He leaned both elbows on the rim of the tonneau, and looked at her curiously.

"Of course we want you to; but I don't know of any reason why you should."

"Nor I," said Dallas, with an utter absence of undue gallantry. "But, I can think of a good many why I should not."

The countess laughed, and glanced at him from under the corners of her long, dark eyelashes.

"All this is Sir James' doing, is it not?" she asked.

"Entirely. I am merely the deus ex machina."

"What is that?"

"At present, a helpless god; let us say, Cupid with his wings clipped."

"You hate to stop on the road, do you not?"

"Yes, don't you?"

"N-no."

"Excuse me. But, you see, when I start to do a thing, I like to finish it without a break. Don't you?"

"Yes. But then, you see, I was not doing anything—except being frightened nearly to death."

"At what, pray?"

"The speed. You are a very daring driver, Mr. Dallas. One feels utter confidence, but at the same time the mere pace is terrifying."

"But a nihilist should not be frightened at anything."

"Zut!" The countess struck the side of the car sharply with her small hand. "But I am not really a nihilist, Mr. Dallas; I am merely the victim of circumstance. Really, I would rather be killed myself than to hurt any living thing."

There was an earnest note in the girl's voice that caused Dallas to glance at her keenly.

"Then why——"

"Because—oh, I could never make you understand."

"Try," said Dallas gently.

"It's difficult. You are American. I am Polish. You grew up in an atmosphere of liberty in thought and speech and action, and I in one of oppression. I was taught that the assassination of despots was fine and noble. All my family lived in a mesh of intrigue, and some"—her breath came quickly—"have paid the penalty. But when I grew older I began to feel that it was all so cruel. I am weak, perhaps, but I cannot plot to kill people!" Her voice grew plaintive. "I do not want suffering, nor to cause it. I want sunshine and flowers and sweetness and——"

"And love," said Dallas quietly.

The countess looked up at the moon.

"Perhaps. I don't know much about the latter, but it sounds rather nice." She laughed.

Dallas regarded her thoughtfully. "You have about as much right to be a nihilist as I have," said he in his dry voice. "What you really need is a husband, and, in the course of time, a—ahem—family. Then you would not have time to think of blowing anybody up, unless it were the cook, and you couldn't do that or she'd leave. Tell me, if you were to get out of this mess, would you cut the whole thing for the future?"

"Yes," whispered the countess.

"Promise?"

"Oh, yes. But why?"

"Because, if you'll promise, I will agree to see you safely to Novibazar."

"Mr. Dallas!"

"Yes. You are much too nice to be mixed up with a bloodthirsty gang of murderers or to be in the clutches of men like the prince and Rosenthal."

The countess dropped her hand upon his arm as it rested on the rim of the tonneau. Her eyes looked deep into his, and something in their expression, or perhaps it was the magic of her touch, sent a thrill through the young man. Dallas could be outwardly as unmoved as an Iroquois when his whole, sensitive inner nature was warm with the impulse of the moment.

"That is very sweet of you," said the girl softly, "but it is asking far too much!"

"You haven't asked it. It was James. We will say that it is for the sake of the Lady Thalia."

"But I don't want to say that it is all for Thalia! I want just a little of it to be for me!"

"Then it is for you."

"But why?"

"Because—oh, because I am an Altrurian, and a reformer of young ladies with nihilistic tendencies, and feel sorry for the poor kings."

The countess slightly raised her chin.

"I had hoped that it might be something more—chiv—er—roman—er—interesting. And what is an Altrurian, Mr. Dallas?"

"An Altrurian is a person who does for nothing what most people want to be paid for."

"Oh!" The countess regarded him thoughtfully. "And you are that sort of person?"

"In moments of folly, and when under the influence of—James."

"Then you consider this a moment of folly?"

"Worse!" Dallas looked deep into her eyes. "It is a moment of madness!"

The countess dropped her elbows on the rim of the seat, rested her pretty chin on the knuckles of one hand, and regarded the young man fixedly. Her lovely face was filled with the softest of shadows, and her deep blue eyes shone like stars after the moon has set.

"But you don't want any pay?" said she.

"Not for myself. Only for you—and the poor devils of kings."

"Why are you so sorry for the wretched kings?"

"I'd be sorry for anybody so unfortunate as to be in your bad graces. Then a person in grave danger is always a fit object for compassion."

"And how about a person in my good graces?" asked the countess mischievously.

"That," said Dallas, "would be more dangerous still."

"Indeed!"

"I think so. What if you happened to get jealous—with your knowledge of unpleasant explosives!"

"You are chaffing me!"

"Not a bit of it! I shouldn't dare!"

The countess tossed her head. "For a man who drives a car as you do, it seems to me that you are singularly lacking in courage!"

"Ah, but, you see, you can't drive a woman."

"Would you be afraid to try?"

"Very! One always goes around in such a small circle that it is impossible to tell who is in the lead."

"Ignorance," observed the countess to the moon, "is sometimes said to be bliss."

"Very likely—while it lasts."

"Coward!"

"Guilty!"

"But, in spite of your craven fears, here you are, knight errant!"

"That is James' fault."

"Then it stops at Paris," said the countess, with decision.

"Just as you wish."

"What is your wish?"

"To be of service"—Dallas smiled—"and to reform you from the evil of your ways."

"But—why?"

"I have told you. Call it altruism."

"I'm afraid," said the girl slowly, "that it is pure kindness of heart, and must cease at Paris."

"Very well."

"What?"

"I said, 'Very well.'"

The countess leaned back in the tonneau and folded her hands in her lap.

"Have a cigarette?" said Dallas, offering his case. She took one, lighted it, then glanced at the moon, that treacherous counselor and lenient, vise-mouthed chaperon.

"Still," said the countess presently, in a meditative voice, "I don't suppose I ought to be selfish. There's Thalia—and Sir James."

"Quite so," said Dallas dryly.

The girl beat a little tattoo on the back of the seat with her gloved fingers, then looked at Dallas aslant.

"It would be a lark," said she. "Do you really want to take us?"

"Yes. I have already undertaken to see you safely out of your troubles. But remember, it's a bargain. Do you promise to reform?"

"Yes," murmured the countess; "I promise. Oh, you Americans!" She turned suddenly and flung herself against the rim of the tonneau, her face very near that of the young man. "I beg your pardon," said she softly. "I should have said—you American!"

Dallas took her hand in his strong, nervous grip and gave it a slight squeeze.

"Then it's agreed," said he.

"It's agreed. Oh, look! Here comes a car!"

The young man turned and looked back over the road upon which they had come. Far in the distance he caught the sudden flare of a searchlight. At the same moment the cheerful voice of Sir James hailed him from the gloom ahead:

"I say, Stephen, here comes a car."

"I see it," said Dallas. "We will stop them and try to beg a little, essence."

With painstaking care, the Englishman placed the Lady Thalia in the tonneau. "We saw that fellow's lights," said he, "and hurried back."

Far down the road there appeared another vivid flash, then two lurid eyes, as the car swung around a slight curve. Apparently it was high-powered, for on striking the foot of the slope upon which Dallas had stopped it came flying up with no change of speed. A moment later Dallas' car fell within the beams of the twin lights, when there came the sound of shifting gears as the new arrival, a big limousine car, glided gently alongside and came to a stop. At the same moment there reached the ears of the runaways a harsh, discordant laugh.

"Rosenthal!" cried the countess.

Sir James flicked away his cigarette. "I say, old chap," he drawled to Dallas, "I believe that we've been had!"

Three dark figures descended from the car, and two of them approached, Rosenthal was in advance, looming dark and Titanesque. At his elbow came the chauffeur, and Dallas' quick eye caught the flash of some metallic object in the man's hand. The prince remained standing by the door of the limousine.

"Looks like a row," muttered Sir James. "Go slow, Stephen; remember that we are in France."

As the big Jew approached, his raucous laugh burst out again; then, observing the silent and ominous attitudes of the two young men, he stopped.

"Coot efening!" said he, in thick, guttural English. He took off his hat with a flourish. "Excuse me if I laugh, but this is so very, very funny! Vell, vell, boys vill be boys, is it not?"

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest.

"I must say that I fail to see anything funny about it!" snapped Dallas. "We invite two ladies to take a moonlight ride, and then get stalled on a lonely stretch of road because some thief has stolen all the essence out of our tank."

"No!" cried, Rosenthal in a tone of mock surprise.

"You might let us have enough to go on with, you know," suggested Sir James placidly.

The big Jew's laugh gurgled deeper. "Goot!" said he. "Be a sport, as they say in the States. After all, it vould be no more than fair if ve vere to give you some petrol—because it is yours that we are now burning in our motor! Ha, ha, ha!"

"Ours!" snarled Dallas. "Have you got the cheek to tell me that you stole my essence?" He took a step forward. Sir James lounged easily at his elbow, his hands in the pockets of his ulster.

"Hold on!" The Jew raised one big arm and shook his finger at the two men. "Don't do anyt'ing foolish, my dear boys. Let me state my case. You made a little plot to steal avay our ladies. That vas all right; I do not blame you. I vas once a youngster minesellef! But now I have a vife in Buda-Pesth whom I lofe very much."

"Oh, rot!" snapped Dallas.

"That is not polite, Mr. Dallas," remonstrated Rosenthal, "but no matter. When you made this little plan, you did not appreciate two t'ings: feerst, who those ladies vere, and, second, that you vas playing the game mit Isidor Rosenthal!" He smote his chest with one big hand.

"The game is not yet played out, my dear baron," murmured Sir James.

"I beg your pardon, Sir Chames." Again he shook his finger at the two men. "But do not try anyt'ing rash, because I could take one of you boys in each hand and cr-r-rack your heads together!" The harsh voice had become stern and menacing. "More than that, the prince has a revolver, and vould, I am afraid, be fool enough to shoot it at you. Then here is the mécanicien mit a spanner! It is no goot. It is not vorth while. Besides, there is somet'ing more. You do not know about this lady's maid of the Lady Thalia."

"Yes," said Dallas impatiently; "we know all about her. She is the Countess Rubitzki and said to be a nihilist."

"She is a nihilist," said Rosenthal.

"Bosh!" said the Englishman.

"It is no bosh, Sir Chames. There are extradition papers out for her in France and Italy and Austria. If she is taken, she goes to Siberia."

"It makes no difference," retorted Dallas. "Maid or nihilist or countess, she is our guest, and she is not to be interfered with."

"By chingo!" exclaimed the Jew, "but that is goot spirit! Belief me, I am sorry to spoil this little spree, but business is business, and there is that matter of my forty t'ousand pounds. Come, my friends; ve do not vant a row. You must see that you are outclassed. Mein Gott!" he exclaimed in vexation. "Who are you boys to pit your brains and bodies against Isidor Rosenthal? I have made rebellions in South America and the Balkans, and all the West Indies takes off its hat to me. I have put presidents on their t'rones, and outfinanced statesmen, and received the t'anks of potentates. Come, ve vill not have any troubles! You vould not be so foolish!" He turned and said a few sharp words to the chauffeur, whereat the man walked back to the car and put away the spanner. Rosenthal turned again to Dallas and threw out his hands, palms upward. "So you see, my dear boys, I play big games. And I play little ones, too! I knew you vould try to steal the Lady Thalia. It had to be—after Sir Chames went valking mit her on the beach. So, not to make a r-row by the hotel, and because ve needed some fuel, I ordered our man to draw the essence from your tank and put it into ours. There vas forty liters, which at thirty-five centimes makes fourteen francs. I vill gif you the money."

He drew his purse from his pocket, counted out some silver, and offered it to Dallas.

"I don't want your filthy money!" growled the American.

"Take it, my friend. Business is business." Rosenthal stepped to the car and put the money on the seat; then, turning, he brushed past Sir James and laid his hand on the latch of the door to the tonneau. "Come, ladies," said he.

But it was just here that Rosenthal, hardened adventurer and keen judge of men that he was, committed a faux pas. Accustomed all his life to carrying his wishes through by the sheer weight of his tremendous vitality, he would not admit the possibility of any active resistance to his will. But in all his rough dealings with men, the Jew had never had much contact of a hostile character with thoroughbreds. As he truthfully said, he was physically powerful enough to take the two young men, one in either hand, and knock their heads together, and this and the fact that they were unarmed and apparently at a loss seemed to him quite enough to insure his carrying off the affair high-handedly.

But the big Jew had quite failed to consider the fact that there is a certain type of man who, under given conditions, will fight to the last, not through any hope of winning out, but merely because he feels that he owes it to himself.

Both Dallas and Sir James belonged to this class. The Englishman had been standing with his feet apart and his thumbs hooked into the side pockets of his ulster. His cap was pulled down over his eyes, and his face looked calm and unruffled. But as the Jew stepped forward and laid his hand upon the latch, Sir James swung easily about, taking the weight of his athletic body on his forward foot.

"Oh, look here, baron," said he in a voice of calmest protest. "This won't do at all. We can't have you making free with our guests like that, you know. Suppose you take your hand off that door."

"Sir Chames," said Rosenthal in his harsh voice, "I am very sorry, but these ladies are in our care, and they must come with us."

His great hand fell on the latch, and as it did so Sir James' fist shot out. So quick was the blow, and so true and hard, that it would have been all that was necessary to stretch the ordinary man upon the road. But Rosenthal was very far from being the ordinary man. Although confident that he would meet with no resistance, yet as the veteran of many a swift and deadly mêlée where knives and pistols were used as well as fists, he was not caught altogether napping. The indolent shifting of the Englishman's weight had not been lost to his practiced eye, so that when Sir James struck out, Rosenthal, although he had no time to evade the blow, slightly turned his head, with the result that what would otherwise have been a solid impact glanced from the heavy bones under his woolen cap.

Seeing that he had failed, the Englishman sprang in and struck with his other fist, but this blow was knocked aside by Rosenthal's arm, and the next instant the two had clinched.

Dallas, who fully understood his friend's nature, was quite prepared. As Sir James grappled with Rosenthal, Dallas sprang upon the prince, and before that startled royalty could snatch his revolver from his pocket he received a blow between the eyes that sent him over backward and to the ground, his head striking the step as he fell. The mécanicien, taking it for granted, from the assurance of Rosenthal and the quiet demeanor of the two young men, that there would be no violence, was also taken unprepared. Before he could secure his spanner, Dallas had sprung upon him and struck him in the face with a force that sent him spinning in his tracks. But the American, although strong and quick, was light of build, while the chauffeur was a thickset, powerful man. Recovering himself, he sprang at Dallas, and the two went to the ground together in a very active "rough-and-tumble."

The prince, half stunned from the rap which he had given his head as he fell, remained quite hors de combat, so that the fight was man to man. But Sir James, although a splendid athlete, was no match for the herculean Jew. Rosenthal tore him off as a gorilla might free himself from the clasp of a man, and, getting one great arm clear, smote the Englishman a hammerlike blow on the top of the head, which laid him senseless and quivering in the road. Then, ignoring the struggle going on between Dallas and the chauffeur, he flung open the door of the tonneau, and, plucking out the countess as if she were a child, carried her to the prince's car and pushed her into the limousine.

"Keep quiet, Paula!" he panted. "Remember, if there is any alarm—Siberia!"

He strode back to Dallas' car. "Come, Thalia," said he. "Do not oblige me to use force. Come!"

Without a word, the girl descended from the car; but, catching sight of Sir James, she paused.

"You brute!" she cried chokingly. "Have you killed him?"

"Nonsense! It is nodding," panted the Jew. "He is yust asleep. I took care to hit him on top of the head and not too hard, or his skull vould be c-c-crushed like an eggshell! I do not like to kill a gentleman; they are too few! Sapristi, he vould fight! Vat could I do? Come!"

He pushed the girl toward the other car, into which she crept without a word, when Rosenthal turned and secured the two valises. The chauffeur had overcome Dallas, who was lying on his back, cursing vigorously, while the man sat upon his chest, pinning both his wrists to the ground. The prince had struggled to a sitting posture, with his back against the wheel, and was holding both hands to his head and groaning. As Rosenthal's eyes fell upon him, the Jew's face was lit for a moment by his sardonic grin. Leaning down, he raised the prince bodily by both shoulders, and thrust him into the limousine.

"Get in, my dear fellow!" said he, and slammed the door. He turned to where Dallas was lying on his back in the road, under the weight of the burly mécanicien, and his deep chuckle rumbled out again.

"Vill you be good if you are let up, and not try to fight?" asked Rosenthal.

Dallas' reply was a somewhat torrid blast in the expressive terms of his native city, Chicago.

"Peste!" exclaimed the Jew. "All this fuss for some br-r-ight eyes! Such foolish boys! With me it is different; it is a matter of forty t'ousand pounds. Vy can you not be sensible?" His harsh voice carried a note that was almost plaintive. "Here we are fighting with r-r-rage in our hearts, and yesterday ve might have been all drowned together!"

Furious as he was, something in the tone of the big Jew struck Dallas' sense of the ridiculous. In spite of himself, he began to laugh. Rosenthal's harsh cackle joined him.

"That is better—to laugh! Come, get up!" He hauled the chauffeur roughly off Dallas, who rose to his feet, shook himself, eyed his big antagonist for a moment, then shrugged.

"Where is Sir James?" he demanded, looking around.

"Over there. He is hurted a little—not much." He jerked his head toward the Englishman, who was beginning to stir. Rosenthal turned away.

"Good night, Mr. Dallas," said he affably; then in French to the mécanicien: "Get in and drive!"

Dallas walked stiffly to the side of his prostrate friend. The mécanicien climbed to his feet, cranked the motor, and took his seat. Rosenthal glanced at Sir James, then got in beside the chauffeur.

"Good night," called the Jew again.

"Good night," answered Dallas, in spite of himself.

The big car moved forward; as it gathered speed and glided off into the darkness, Dallas heard the Jew's harsh laugh, scarcely distinguishable from the clash of the pinions as the chauffeur went somewhat awkwardly into the speed ahead. With a wry smile, the young man turned to look at his friend. At the same moment, Sir James sat upright.

"Ouch!" said he.

"How do you feel, James?" asked Dallas.

"Little groggy. I say——" His wits, scattered by the crushing force of Rosenthal's big fist, rallied quickly. He looked somewhat vacantly about him, then groaned.

"Very bad, James?"

"Oh, I say, Stephen!" Sir James' two hands were raised to clasp his head. "We've been had!"

"Couldn't help it," muttered Dallas. "We did our little best."

"How did you make out?"

"Nothing to brag of. I did put the prince out of action; then the chauffeur sat on me."

"The chauffeur! Oh, come! Not the chauffeur!"

"Rather it were he than the prince—or even Rosenthal!" snapped Dallas.

"Oh, my soul! And our ladies?"

"They've got 'em."

"Oh, no! No! Stephen, Stephen, this is too awful!"

"Don't blame me," snapped Dallas. "You started the Donnybrook!"

"I know it. But—to get polished off and our ladies taken away from us by an outfit like that! Let me die!" Sir James groaned, then sat up with a feeble grin. "Did you say you had some brandy in the car?"

Dallas produced the stimulant, of which both partook.

"I thought I heard somebody laughing as I was waking up from my nap," observed Sir James.

"Very likely. Rosenthal was laughing, and so was I. Just think it over a bit, and perhaps the humor of the thing may strike you."

Sir James cackled feebly. "Downy old bird, Rosenthal," said he. "To think of his having foreseen the whole thing and drained all of the essence out of our tank except just enough to take us into the wilderness. Hope we meet again."

"I have an idea," said Dallas softly, "that we will."

"Where, pray?"

"That I don't know. But this adventure, James, has only just begun."

Sir James' face brightened. "I wish that I could think so," said he.

"Well, it's so. Let me tell you something. About two minutes before Rosenthal arrived on the scene, I had passed my word to Countess Rubitzki to see the two girls safely to Novibazar."

"The deuce you had!"

"Yes. I had agreed to get them safely away from Rosenthal and the prince, and deposit them in the Lady Thalia's country, wherever that is. What I meant to do, of course, was to make a run to the eastward in the car, and, even while I was talking to her, I had figured it all out. My plan was to stop in Paris for a few hours' sleep and to get some things, and then, before Rosenthal and the prince could arrive, to get away for Switzerland, go over the Simplon, and then on through Italy and the Dolomites for the Dalmatian coast, eventually escorting them across Montenegro, as we had planned. Now the whole thing has got complicated—but there's my promise just the same."

Sir James scrambled to his feet and seized his friend's hand.

"That's the talk, old fellow!" he exclaimed. "You can count on me. Besides"—he rubbed his head—"we can't decently drop the thing after being mauled about like this. And I say, Dallas, did you ever see such eyes?"

"No," said Dallas, "nor such a mouth and chin. And she is no more a nihilist at heart than I am. She has simply got mixed up in all this trouble through the fault of circumstance. She is the sweetest little person that ever lived! And so game! Upon my word, James, I caught a glimpse of her as that hairy brute was stuffing her into the limousine, and her cigarette was still going as——"

"I say!" exclaimed Sir James. "You are talking about the countess! I was referring to Thalia."

"Thalia!" exclaimed Dallas. "Oh, you can have Thalia."

"Wish I thought so. Anyhow, we'll have a try, eh?" Sir James raised the flask which he held in his hand. "It's a go, then, old boy! Here's confusion to Rosenthal and the prince; and long live Thalia and the countess and—and—what is the name of their bally country?"

"Novibazar."

"Long live Novibazar!"

The two friends drank.

"Here comes a wagon," said Dallas, as he set down the flask. He raised his voice: "Armand!"

"Me voilà, m'sieu!" came the distant answer.