Prince Ugo Ravorelli was not, that day, the only one whose coming to Brussels was of interest to Quentin. Dickey Savage came in from Ostend and was waiting at the Bellevue when he walked in soon after six o'clock. Mr. Savage found a warm welcome from the tall young man who had boldly confiscated several hours that belonged properly to the noble bridegroom, and it was not long until, dinner over, he was lolling back in a chair in Quentin's room, his feet cocked on the window sill, listening with a fair and increasing show of interest to the confidences his friend was pouring forth.

“So you deliberately drove off and left the prince, eh? And she didn't sulk or call you a nasty, horrid beast? I don't know what the devil you want me here for if you've got such a start as that. Seems to me I'll be in the way, more or less,” said Dickey, when the story reached a point where, to him, finis was the only appropriate word.

“That's the deuce of it, Dickey. I can't say that I've got a safe start at all, even with her, and I've certainly got some distance to go before I can put the prince out of the running. You may think this is a nice, easy, straightaway race, but it isn't. It's going to be a steeplechase, and I don't know the course. I'm looking for a wide ditch at any turn, and I may get a nasty fall. You see, I've some chance of getting my neck broken before I get to the stretch.”

“And some noted genius will be grinding out that Lohengrin two-step just about the time you get within hearing distance, too. You won't be two-stepping down the aisle at St. Gudule, but you'll agree that it's a very pretty party. That will be all, my boy—really all. I don't want to discourage you and I'm willing to stay by you till that well-known place freezes over, but I think an ocean voyage would be very good for you if you can arrange to start to-morrow.”

“If you're going into this thing with that sort of spirit, you'll be a dead weight and I'll be left at the post,” said Quentin, ruefully.

“Was the prince at the house when you returned from the drive?”

“No; and Mrs. Garrison almost glared a hole through me. There were icicles on every word when she told poor Dorothy he had been there and would return this evening.”

“Was she satisfied to finish the drive with you after she had seen the prince?” Quentin had not told him of the conversation which followed her demand to be taken home.

“She was very sensible about it,” he admitted, carefully. “You see, she had an engagement with me, and as a lady she could not well break it. We got along very nicely, all things considered, but I'm afraid she won't go out again with me.”

“She won't slam the door in your face if you go to the house, will she?”

“Hardly,” said the other, smiling. “She has asked me to come. The prince likes me, it seems.”

“But he likes to be alone with her, I should say. Well, don't interfere when he is there. My boy, give him a chance,” said Dickey, with a twinkle.

The duke headed off the two Americans as they left the hotel half an hour later. He was evidently watching for them, and his purpose was clear. It was his duty to prevent Quentin from going to the Garrison home, if possible. After shaking hands with Savage, the little man suggested a visit to a dance house in the lower end, promising an evening of rare sport. He and Count Sallaconi, who came up from Paris with the prince, had planned a little excursion into unusual haunts, and he hoped the Americans had a few dull hours that needed brightening. Phil savagely admitted to himself that he anticipated a good many dull hours, but they could not be banished by the vulgarity of a dance hall. The long, bony, fierce-mustached count came up at this moment and joined in imploring the young men to go with them to the “gayest place in all Brussels.”

“Let's go, Phil, just to see how much worse our New York places are than theirs,” said Dickey.

“But I have a—er—sort of an engagement,” remonstrated Quentin, reluctantly. The duke gave him a sharp look.

“Do not be afraid,” he said, laughing easily. “We will not permit the dancing girls to harm you.”

“He's not afraid of girls,” interposed Dickey. “Girls are his long suit. You didn't tell me you had an engagement?” Quentin gave him a withering look.

“I have one, just the same,” he said, harshly.

“You will not accompany us, then?” said the count, the line between his eyebrows growing deeper.

“I have to thank you, gentlemen, and to plead a previous engagement. May we not go some other night?”

“I am afraid we shall not again be in the same mood for pleasure,” said the duke, shifting his eyes nervously. “The count and I have but little time to give to frivolity. We are disappointed that you will not join us on this one night of frolic.”

“I regret it exceedingly, but if you knew what I have to do to-night you would not insist,” said Phil, purposely throwing a cloak of mystery about his intentions for the mere satisfaction of arousing their curiosity.

“Very well, mes Americains; we will not implore you longer,” responded the count, carelessly. “May your evening be as pleasant as ours.” The two Italians bowed deeply, linked arms and strolled away.

“Say, those fellows know you haven't an engagement,” exclaimed Savage, wrathfully. “What sort of an ass are you?”

“See here, Dickey, you've still got something to learn in this world. Don't imagine you know everything. You don't, you know. Do you think I am going to walk into one of their traps with my eyes open?”

“Traps? You don't mean to say this dance hall business is a trap?” exclaimed Dickey, his eyes opening wide with an interest entirely foreign to his placid nature.

“I don't know, and that's why I am keeping out of it. Now, let's take our walk, a nice cool drink or two and go to bed where we can dream about what might have happened to us at the dance hall.”

“Where does she live?” asked Savage, as they left the rotunda.

“Avenue Louise,” was the laconic answer.

“Why don't you say Belgium or Europe, if you're bound to be explicit,” growled Dickey.

A dapper-looking young man came from the hotel a few paces behind them and followed, swinging his light cane leisurely. Across the place, in the shadow of a tall building, the two Italian noblemen saw the Americans depart, noting the direction they took. It was toward the Avenue Louise. A smile of satisfaction came to their faces when the dapper stranger made his appearance. A few moments later they were speeding in a cab toward the avenue.

“That is her house,” said Phil, later on, as the two strolled slowly down the Avenue Louise. They were across the street from the Garrison home, and the shadowy-trees hid them. The tall lover knew, however, that the Italian was with her and that his willfulness of the afternoon had availed him naught. Nor could he recall a single atom of hope and encouragement his bold act had produced other than the simple fact that she had submitted as gracefully as possible to the inevitable and had made the best of it.

“Ugo has the center of the stage, and everybody else is in the orchestra, playing fiddles of secondary importance, while Miss Dorothy is the lone and only audience,” reflected Dickey.

“I wish you'd confine your miserable speculations to the weather, Dickey,” said the other, testily.

“With pleasure. To-morrow will be a delightful day for a drive or a stroll. You and I, having nothing else to do, can take an all-day drive into the country and get acquainted with the Belgian birds and bees—and the hares, too.”

“Don't be an ass! What sort of a game do you think those Italians were up to this evening? I'm as nervous as the devil. It's time for the game to come to a head, and we may as well expect something sudden.”

“I think it depends on the prince. If he finds that you haven't torn down his fences while you had full sway, he'll not be obliged to go on with the game. He was merely protecting interests that absence endangered. Now that he's here, and if all is smooth and undisturbed—or, in other words, if you have failed in your merciless design to put a few permanent and unhealable dents in the fair lady's heart—he will certainly discharge his cohorts and enjoy very smooth seas for the rest of the trip. If you have disfigured her tender heart by trying to break into it, as a safe-blower gets into those large, steel things we call safety deposit vaults—where other men keep things they don't care to lose—I must say that his satanic majesty will be to pay. Do you think you have made any perceptible dents, or do you think the safe is as strong and as impregnable as it was when you began using chisels and dynamite on it six weeks ago?”

“I can't say that I enjoy the simile, but I'm conceited enough to think it is not as free from dents as it was when I began. I'm not quite sure about it, but I believe with a little more time and security against interference I might have—er—have—''

“Got away with the swag, as Turk would say. Well, it's this way. If the prince investigates and finds that you were frightened away just in time to prevent wholesale looting, you'll have to do some expert dodging to escape the consequences of the crime. He'll have the duke and the count and a few others do nothing but get up surprise parties for you.”

“That's it, Dickey. That's what I'm afraid of—the surprise parties. He's afraid of me, or he wouldn't have gone to the trouble of having me watched. They've got something brewing or they wouldn't have been so quiet for the past two weeks. Courant is gone and—”

“How do you know Courant isn't here?”

“Turk says he has disappeared.”

“Turk doesn't know everything. That fellow may have a score of disguises. These French detectives are great on false whiskers and dramatic possibilities. The chances are that he has been watching you night and day, and I'll bet my head, if he has, he's been able to tell Ugo more about your affair with Miss Garrison than you know yourself, my boy.”

They turned to retrace their steps, Phil gloomily surveying the big, partially-lighted house across the way. A man met them and made room for them to pass on the narrow walk. He was a jaunty, well-dressed young fellow and the others would have observed nothing peculiar about him had they not caught him looking intently toward the house which was of such interest to them. As he passed them he peered closely at their faces and so strange was his manner that both involuntarily turned their heads to look after him. As is usually the case, he also turned to look at them.

“I saw that fello\v in the hotel,” said Savage.

Five minutes later they met Turk and, before they could utter a word of protest, he was leading them into the Rue du Prince Royal.

“There's a guy follerin' you,” he explained. “An' th' two swells is drivin' aroun' in a cab like as if they wuz expectin' fun. They just passed you on th' avenoo, an' now they's comin' back. That's their rig—cuttin' across there. See? I tell you, they's somethin' in the air, an' it looks as though it ain't goin' to pan out as they wanted it to.”

“What's the matter with you? The duke and the count went to a dance hall,” expostulated Quentin.

“To make a night of it,” added Savage

“Didn't you see a nice lookin' feller up there in th' avenoo, an' didn't he size you up purty close? That's him—that's Courant, th' fly cop. Git inside this doorway an' you'll see him pass yere in a couple of seconds. He's not a block behind us.”

Sure enough the dapper stranger passed by the three men in shadow, looking uneasily, nervously up and across the street.

“He's lost th' trail,” whispered Turk, after Courant was beyond hearing.

“The same fellow, I'll be blowed,” said Dickey, in amazement. “Now, what do you suppose the game is?”

“My idea is that w'en you turned 'em down on th' dance hall job they was afraid you'd go to th' young lady's house and cut in on th' prince's cinch, so they had to git a move on to head you off. You was wise w'en you kicked out of th' dance hall racket. Th' chances are you'd 'a' got into all kinds o' hell if you'd fell into th' trap. Say, I'm dead sure o' one er two t'ings. In th' first place, they've got four or five more ringers than we know about. I seen Courant talkin' mighty secret-like to two waiters in th' hall this evenin, an' th' driver o' that cab o' theirn was a baggage hustler at th' Bellyvoo as late as yesterday.”

“By thunder, I believe their game was to mix us up in a big free-for-all fight when they got us into that dance dive. That shows Dickey, how wise I was to decline the invitation,” said Quentin, seriously. By this time they were some distance behind Turk, following in the path of the puzzled detective. They saw him look curiously at the lighted windows of the houses, and overtook him at the intersection of the Boulevard Waterloo. Just as they came up from behind, Courant stopped for an instant's conversation with two men. Their talk was brief and the trio turned to go back over the path just traversed by Courant The two sets of men met fairly and were compelled to make room for each other to pass. Courant came to a full stop involuntarily, but recovered himself and followed his friends quickly.

“The plot thickens,” observed Phil. “It looks as though they are rounding up their forces after the miscarriage of the original plan. Gad, they are hunting us down like rats to-night.”

“The hotel is the safest place for us, and the quicker we get there the better,” said Dickey. “I'm not armed, are you?”

“Of course not. I hadn't thought of such a thing, but from now on I'll carry a revolver. Those fellows didn't look especially dainty, did they?”

“I can't believe that they intend to murder you or anything like that. They wouldn't dare do such a thing.”

“That's th' game, Mr. Savage; I'm dead sure of it. This was th' night an' it was to ha' been done in th' dance hall, riot, stampede, everybody fightin' wild an' then a jab in th' back. Nobody any th' wiser, see?” The two paled a trifle under Turk's blunt way of putting it.

When they entered the hotel a short time later the first man they saw was Prince Ugo. With his dark eyes glowing, his lips parted in a fine smile, he came to meet them, his hand extended heartily.

“I have asked for you, gentlemen, and you were out. You return just as I am ready to give up in despair. And now, let me say how happy I am to see you,” he said, warmly. The Americans shook hands with him, confusion filling their brains. Why was he not with the Garrisons?

“I knew you were here, Prince Ugo, and would have inquired for you but that I suspected you would be closely engaged,” said Quentin, after a moment.

“Earlier in the evening I was engaged, but I am here now as the bearer of a message to you, Mr. Quentin. Miss Garrison has asked me to deliver into your hands this missive.” With that he drew from his pocket a sealed envelope and passed it to Quentin. “I was commanded to give it you to-night, so perhaps you will read it now.”

“Thank you,” muttered the other, nervously tearing open the envelope as the prince turned to Dickey Savage. At that moment the duke and the count strolled into the rotunda, jauntily, easily, as if they had been no farther than the block just beyond, instead of racing about in a bounding cab. They approached the group as Phil turned away to read the note which had come so strangely into his hands. Dorothy wrote:

“Dear Phil: I trust you to say nothing to Prince Ugo. I mean, do not intimate that I saw him yesterday when I went to drive with you. He would consider it an affront. I know it is not necessary to caution you, but I feel safe in doing so. You will pardon me, I am sure. My conduct, as well as yours, when we look at it calmly in an afterlight, was quite extraordinary. So fully do I trust him and so well does he love me that I know this note comes to you inviolate.

“D.”

Phil's brain was in a whirl. He glanced at the handsome face of Dorothy's noble lover and then at his swarthy fellow countrymen. Could they be plotters? Could he be hand-in-hand with those evil-looking men? He had delivered the note, and yet he so feared its recipient that he was employing questionable means to dispose of him. There could be no doubt as to the genuineness of the note. It was from Dorothy, and the prince had borne it to him direct from her hand.

“An invitation to dinner?” asked the prince, laughing easily. “Miss Garrison is alarmingly fond of Mr. Quentin, and I begin to feel the first symptoms of jealousy. Pardon me, I should not speak of her here, even in jest.” So sincere was his manner that the Americans felt a strange respect for him. The same thought flashed through the minds of both: “He is not a blackguard, whatever else he may be.” But up again came the swift thought of Courant and his ugly companions, and the indisputable evidence that the first named, at least, was a paid agent of the man who stood before them, now the prince, once the singer in far away Brazil.

“The mention of dinner recalls me to affairs of my own,” continued Ugo. “To-morrow night I expect a few friends here to dine, and I have the honor to ask you all to be among my guests. We shall sit down at nine o'clock, and I only exact a promise that the end may come within a week thereafter.”

The Americans could do naught but accept, but there was an oppressive sense of misgiving in their hearts. Mayhap the signal failure to carry out the plans of one night was leading swiftly and resolutely up to the success of another. For more than an hour Quentin and his friend sat silently, soberly in the former's room, voicing only after long intervals the opinions and conjectures their puzzled minds begot, only to sink back into fresh fields for thought.

“I can't understand it,” said Dickey, at last, starting to bed.

“I believe I understand it perfectly. They are on a new tack. It occurs to me that they fear we suspect something and the dinner is a sort of peace offering.”

“We may be getting into a nest of masculine Lucretia Borgias, my boy.”

“Pleasant dreams, then. Good-night!”