In a bedroom in one of the cheap little pensiones which shoulder one another along the Riva degli Schiavoni, from the ducal palace to the public gardens, sat three men. All three were smoking execrable tobacco in ancient pipes. Now and then this one or that consulted his watch (grateful that he still possessed it), as if expecting some visitor. The castaways of the American Comic Opera troupe were on the anxious seat this morning.

"Well, what do you think?" asked Smith.

"Think? Why, she'll be here this morning, or I know nothing about women. That ring was worth a cool thousand." O'Mally shook the nicotine from his pipe. "She'll be here, never you worry. But," with a comic grimace, "it's dollars to doughnuts that both of 'em will be stone-broke. I know something about that innocent little game called roulette."

"But if she's broke, what the devil shall we do?" Smith put this question in no calm frame of mind.

"Forty dollars; it's a heap just now."

"She said she had another plan," said Worth.

"If it's a plan which needs no investments, all well and good. But, on my word, I wouldn't dare advance another cent." Smith's brow wore many wrinkles.

"Nor I," said O'Mally.

"Positively, no," added Worth.

O'Mally mused. "A bill from your tailor will reach you here in eight days, but money! Looks as if they had sent it via Japan."

"The one thing I'm sore about is the way she buncoed us into giving up our return tickets to the chorus."

"Shame on you!" cried the generous O'Mally. "What chance had any of them on this side? Ten to one, nobody home could have sent them money. We men can get along somehow. But I wish I could get some good plug-cut. This English shoe-string tobacco burns like hot lead."

"O'Mally, what's your opinion?"

"On what?"

"La Signorina," said Worth.

"What about her?"

"What do you think of her? She's not one of us; she belongs to another class, and the stage is only an incident."

"Well, I don't know what to think. I've pumped Killigrew, but she seems to be in the dark with the rest of us. That ring and the careless way she offered it as security convinces me that she doesn't belong. But what a voice! It lifts you out of your very boots."

"Even when she talks," said Smith. "Honestly, I'm glad she always wears that veil. I might make a jackass of myself."

"It would be excusable," rejoined Worth, pressing the coal in his pipe and blowing the strong, biting smoke above his head. "She is, without exception, one of the most beautiful women I ever saw or care to see." He rose and walked over to the window and gazed down upon the quay, bright with morning sunshine and colorful with two human currents.

Smith and O'Mally exchanged a swift, comprehensive look. There was one thing upon which they agreed fully, but they had not yet put it into words. When Worth returned to his chair his two companions were inspecting the faded designs in the carpet.

"In Rome there was a grand duke," Worth remarked.

"And how she played him!" laughed Smith.

"And there you are! Imagine an American comic opera star refusing to dine with a real duke! If anything convinces me, it is that. Think of the advertisement it would have been in New York! Think of the fat part for the press agent! No," continued O'Mally, "she doesn't belong."

"The thing that sticks in my mind is the alternative which she has promised to offer." Worth eyed the ceiling. "She said that if she failed at Monte Carlo she had another plan. What? Pawning her jewels? I think not. But whatever it is, I expect to be counted in."

"I, too," agreed Smith.

O'Mally took the small brilliant from his necktie and contemplated it sadly. "The outsiders make fun of us for toting round these sparklers; but often it's board and car-fare home. I paid seventy-five for this; I might be able to raise thirty on it. Of course, she's backed us finely with the hotel man; but if she shouldn't return, it's strapped the three of us will be. And no letters at Cook's this morning."

"Oh, if worst comes to worst, the American consul will forward us to New York. I'm not going to borrow any trouble." And Worth in his turn found employment in the carpet patterns. Presently he got up briskly. "I'm going down to the office."

"Bureau," corrected O'Mally.

"Bureau. There might be a note or something." Worth smiled.

When he was out of the way O'Mally nodded wisely to his friend Smith.

"I hope he won't make a fool of himself over her."

"He has the symptoms. I've seen 'em before," replied Smith jocularly. "But he's an odd duffer, and there's no knowing what he'll do before the round-up. It's a fine go, anyhow. Here we are, handsomely stranded thousands of miles from home. The only chance I have of finding money in a letter is to sign for next season and draw down enough to pay for a steamer ticket. As for a bank account, Lord! I never had one. I have made two offers for my versatile talents, but no line yet."

O'Mally laughed. "Same boat. I've written to my brother, who has always held that I'm a good-for-nothing. And he may see in this predicament of mine a good chance to be rid of me permanently. But I believe Worth has a bank account at home. He is close-mouthed about his affairs. He received some letters yesterday, but when I quizzed him he made out he didn't hear me. I didn't crowd him. Hope he won't make a fool of himself over La Signorina. Sh! he's coming back."

The door opened and Worth beckoned. "They are in the parlor, waiting. I don't know what news they bring."

There was a brightness in his eyes that meant unmistakable things to his two companions. They laid aside their pipes, tidied up a bit, and went down to the stuffy salon. The two women rose as the men entered. There was good cheer and handshaking. O'Mally's heart sank, however, as he touched the hand of La Signorina. There was no joy in the pressure, nothing but sympathy and subtle encouragement.

"Come," he said cheerfully, "put us out of our misery. Confess that you are both broke, and that Monte Carlo is still on the map."

As a preamble La Signorina raised the inevitable veil to the rim of her hat. Worth sat down in the darkest corner whence he could without inconvenience feast his eyes upon her beauty. Her tale was short and lightly told, with an interpolation now and then by Kitty.

"I was very foolish," said the erstwhile prima donna. "I might have known that when one is unlucky one may become still more unlucky. The superlative of bad luck has been my portion. But I did so wish to win. I wanted to bring back enough gold to send you all to America."

"But what was to become of you?" asked Worth from behind his fortress of shadow.

"I?" She paused with indecision. The question was not expected. "Oh, Italy is my home. I shall find a way somehow. Put me out of your thoughts entirely. But I am sorry to bring you this bitter disappointment, for it must be bitter. You have all been so good and patient in your misfortune."

"Forget it," said O'Mally. "Sure, we're no worse off than we were before. And here we've had a whole week of hope and fine air-castles. I've seen 'em tumble down so often that I've a shell like a turtle's now. Forget it."

"But there is one thing I wish to understand thoroughly," put in Worth slowly.

"And that?" La Signorina was never sure of this man. He was deeper than the others; he had more polish, more knowledge of the world at large; he was a gentleman by birth. He was a puzzle, and at this period she was not overfond of shifting puzzles into answers.

"You have guaranteed our credit at this hotel. By what means?" Worth held her eye with courage.

"My word," she answered, finding that she could not beat down his eye.

"I know something of these foreign hotel managers. Words are all right, but they must be backed by concrete values." Worth's eye was still steady and unwavering. "If, as I believe, you have guaranteed our credit here by means of jewels, we must know."

She appealed silently to O'Mally, but he shook his head determinedly.

"It's only right that we should know," he said, wondering why this thing had never entered his thick skull before.

"Let us not indulge in fine sentiment. I have guaranteed your credit here; how I have done so, ought not to matter much."

"But it does," countered Worth. "If by more than word, we insist upon knowing." Worth spoke with feeling. "Do not for a moment doubt my attitude. I understand and appreciate your great generosity. We are absolutely nothing to you, and you are not responsible for our misfortunes. But we men have some pride left. A man might do for us what you have done and we should accept it without comment; but a woman, no. That alters the case entirely."

"Is it from a sense—a misguided sense—of chivalry?" she asked, her lips suggesting a smile.

"That's probably it," O'Mally answered.

And Smith inclined his head in approval.

"You are evading us," went on Worth, not having moved from his stand.

"You insist, then?" coldly.

"Positively insist. If you do not tell us, we shall be forced to pay our bill and take our chances elsewhere." Worth pressed the button in the wall. A servant appeared directly. "The manager, at once."

La Signorina dropped her veil and sat stiffly in her chair. Kitty moved uneasily. Was the man crazy to cross La Signorina like this? The manager appeared. He bowed.

"Madame here," began Worth, indicating La Signorina, "has guaranteed our credit at your hotel."

"Yes. Is not everything satisfactory?" asked the manager eagerly.

"By what means has she established our credit? And do you know her?"

"I never saw madame before till she came here with you gentlemen. What is the trouble?" His brow wrinkled worriedly.

"What security did madame advance?"

"Security?" The manager looked at La Signorina, but she rendered him not the least assistance. "I have given my word to madame not to tell."

"In that case we three gentlemen shall leave this afternoon. You will make out our bill at once."

This time the manager appealed to the lady eloquently.

"You are three foolish men," spoke La Signorina impatiently. "If the manager wishes to tell you he may do so. I give him permission."

The careless way she assigned the third person to the manager more than ever convinced Worth that somewhere and at some time La Signorina had commanded.

"The security I have, gentlemen, is quite sufficient," said the manager.

"Produce it," said Worth. He realized that he had angered La Signorina, and he now regretted his scruples, which in this instance had their foundation on mere curiosity. He would not retreat now.

The manager brought forth a fat wallet and opened it. Out of this he took a flat object wrapped in tissue-paper. Very tenderly he unfolded it. The treasure was a diamond pendant, worth at least a thousand dollars.

"I was to keep this, simply till madame chose to reclaim it. Nothing has been advanced against it." A new thought came into the manager's mind, and he turned slightly pale. "If it is not madame's—?"

"It is mine," said La Signorina. She was very angry, but her sense of justice admitted that Worth was perfectly right. "Once more I ask you not to make me miserable by forcing this trinket back upon me. Will you do me the honor to wait till to-morrow morning?"

The three men involved exchanged questioning looks.

"Till to-morrow morning, then," said Worth. "That will be all," he added, to the manager, who was willing enough to make his escape.

"You will forgive us, won't you?" asked O'Mally. "It could not be. We men have some ideas in our heads that you can't knock out with a club. It was fine of you. You've a heart as big as all outdoors. We'll keep the thought behind the deed. Eh, boys? Do not be angry with us."

"I am only angry to have been found out," she answered, not ungraciously. Then she laughed. "You are the strangest people! One would think, to hear you talk, that I was giving you all this, when I merely advanced security till your remittances come. Well, well, we shall say no more about it. I have a plan to lay before you that is a vastly more interesting matter. It will be something of an adventure to us all."

"Adventure?" O'Mally ran his tongue across his lips like a thirsty man coming unexpectedly upon a pool of spring-water.

"Adventure? Let us be gone upon it at once," said Worth, anxious to return into the graces of this singular woman.

"Any place, so long as there's board and keep in it," Smith declared.

Kitty tried to read La Signorina's eyes. What madness this time?

La Signorina again raised her veil. From her girdle-bag she took a letter, which she unfolded across her knees. "As I have said, I have friends in Italy, and some of them are rich and powerful. This letter is from a friend I have always known. Has any one of you ever heard of the Principessa di Monte Bianca?"

A thoughtful frown passed from one face to another; and each strove to recall this name among half-forgotten memories. Finally, one by one they shook their heads. The name had a familiar echo, but that was all. It was quite possible that they had seen it in the Paris edition of the Herald.

"Let me read this letter to you. She addresses me as Capricciosa, my stage name."

Her audience leaned forward attentively.

"A villa!" exclaimed Kitty rapturously. So many villas had she seen, guarded by Lombardy poplars or cypresses, that her mind hungered to live in one, if never so shortly.

"And the villa of a princess!" sighed O'Mally. "Fudge! I'm a patriot, all right, but may I be hanged if I shouldn't like to meet a princess, the real article, just once. What do you say, Smith?"

"Sure! It would be something to brag about. 'When I was in Florence my friend, the Princess di Whadeyuhcallit, said to me,' and so forth. Sounds good. But it's an idle dream, Tom, an idle dream."

"Will you permit me to read the letter?" asked Worth.

La Signorina consented. Worth had an idea; it was as yet nebulous; still, it was a shrewd idea, and needed only a small space to stand. The moment he saw the letter the nebulous idea became opaque. The page was neatly typewritten in Italian, and only the signature was in ink. It was a small, slanting, aristocratic signature.

"Do you read Italian?" she asked with pardonable malice.

"Very little, and nothing on this page." Worth felt embarrassed under her glance. Still he continued to stare at the letter. The crest on the paper, the postmark on the envelope, convinced him of its authenticity. The date was quite recent, and did not correspond with their unhappy sojourn in the Imperial City.

"The question is, shall we accept this offer?" She refolded the letter. "This was the plan I had in mind when we went to Monte Carlo, and a much better plan, too."

"Of course, we shall accept it," said Worth, confident that the mystery was still there, but that for the present he had been fooled.

"But what's the matter with your playing the princess to the neighbors?" suggested O'Mally, his eyes laughing. "I'll be the concierge, Smith the steward, and Kitty your maid."

"And I?" asked Worth.

"Oh, you can be her Highness' private secretary and attend to the correspondence."

The laughter which followed this was light-hearted and careless. Once more worry had taken to wing and they were without burdens. Only La Signorina did not join the merriment. The sparks in her eyes, the silver points of light, the flash of excitement, portended something. She rose with a determined air.

"Mr. O'Mally makes a very good suggestion. It will be an adventure worth recounting. I shall go as the princess. What sport with the country gentlemen! This will be an adventure after one's own heart. Her Highness commands! Will it not be delightful?"

Worth looked at O'Mally, who looked at Smith, who looked at Kitty; then all four looked at La Signorina.

"Are you not lightening our trials by joking?" asked Worth dubiously.

"I am positively serious."

"Impossible! It would be nothing less than madness to fly in the face of this stroke of luck."

"Call it madness, if you like. I shall go as the princess."

"But the authorities! It will be prison."

"I am sufficiently armed for any event. It all depends upon your courage," with a veiled insolence calculated to make any man commit any kind of folly.

"It is not a question of courage," replied O'Mally; "it's prudence."

"Prudence in an Irishman?" more insolent than ever.

"Oh, if you take that tone," said O'Mally, coloring, "why, the thing is done. Henceforth I am your major-domo. No one can call me a coward."

"O'Mally!"

"That's all right, Worth," said O'Mally. "I wouldn't turn back now for sixty-seven jails. You need not join."

"I shan't desert you in a strait like this," remarked Worth quietly. "Only, I think La Signorina rather cruel to force such a situation upon us, when it was entirely unnecessary. Put me against the correspondence."

"If I wasn't flat broke," said Smith, "I'd bow out politely. But where the grub-stake goes I must go. But I don't like this business a little bit. Signorina, do tell us that it's a joke."

"Yes," cried Kitty, still in doubt.

"I repeat, I am perfectly serious."

"But the consequences!" protested Kitty, now terrified.

"Consequences? I shall find a way to avoid them."

"But supposing some one who knows the real princess happens along?" said Worth, putting in his final argument.

"If I get into trouble of that sort, her Highness will help me out. I thank Mr. O'Mally for his suggestion."

"Don't mention it," returned O'Mally dryly. Inwardly he was cursing his impulsive Irish blood.

"It is agreed, then, that to-morrow we depart for Florence as the Principessa di Monte Bianca and suite?"

Tears began to fill Kitty's eyes. To have everything spoiled like this! La Signorina would land them all in prison.

"There's a legal side to it," Smith advanced cautiously. "The law may not see the jest from your point of view."

"I believe I am clever enough to meet any contingency of that order."

"I give up," said Worth despondently. "But your princess must be a very dear friend for you to take such liberties with her name."

"She appreciates a jest as thoroughly as I do; moreover, she will stand by me in anything I may do. To-morrow morning, then. We shall go direct to Florence and engage carriages to take us out to the Villa Ariadne. We are all capable enough actors to carry out the venture successfully. And now, to relieve Mr. Worth's chivalrous mind, I shall reclaim my pendant. You will doubtless have enough money to forward yourselves to Florence. Once you arrive there, you will leave the further burdens upon my shoulders. Come, Kitty, we must be going. I know that I can rely upon you gentlemen to enter with full spirit into the adventure."

"We are all crazy, but who cares?" O'Mally cried. But he trembled in his boots, and thought vainly of a certain comfortable chop-house on old Broadway.

The three men bowed ceremoniously. Worth opened the door for the women, and when it closed after them he turned savagely toward O'Mally.

"You—ass!"

"There are others!" retorted O'Mally, afire. "You agreed; so drop it. But what the devil are we going to do?"

"That's the question!" Smith got out his pipe.

"We are all going to the Villa Ariadne, and from there to jail!" And Worth flung out of the salon.

"Jail," mused O'Mally. "Blame me, if I don't believe he's right!"