The street before the German Embassy was thronged with motor-cars and carriages; the windows sparkled with lights; lines of police sharply directed traffic and saw to it that the space before the building was kept open.

It was perhaps eleven o'clock when Ashton-Kirk, accompanied by Fuller, arrived. The latter gazed about the glittering rooms, astonished.

"I'm not sure which it most resembles," he said, "a masked ball without the masks, or an ensemble number in a musical comedy."

The women were magnificent; their gowns shone, their shoulders and arms gleamed under the many lights. The officers attached to the various embassies made a dashing picture in their gorgeous uniforms; the official dress of the diplomats was stately and picturesque. Here was a white-haired old Austrian, his chest aglitter with crosses and orders, engaged with the Turkish envoy; the Chinese minister, his flowing silken robes tucked in about him, sat placidly in the midst of a group of admiring ladies; the flaming scarlet and gold lace of one South American republic contrasted strongly with the white and silver of another; Mexico vied with Russia in splendor, while less spectacular states ran from sober greens and grays to the plain black of conventional dress.

Plants and lights were everywhere; from the ballroom came the strains of a German waltz; the dancers floated about upon the shining floor.

The handsome Baroness Von Stunnenberg greeted the secret agent and his aide; the ambassador, who was a massive man with a snowy, up-twisted moustache and the stride of a Prussian cavalryman, stood near by.

"I was informed of your coming," he said to Ashton-Kirk. "And although I do not quite understand, still I am pleased to see you."

The secret agent had replied, and Von Stunnenberg was turning away when a delighted voice exclaimed:

"Kirk, old chap, I'm astonished! Here, of all places in the world."

Ashton-Kirk turned and came face to face with a brilliantly beautiful woman, and a young man with a vastly contented look.

"Mrs. Pendleton," said the secret agent, as he took the outstretched hand, "I can only repeat your husband's exclamation, 'Here, of all places in the world.'"

"But what does it mean?" demanded Jimmie Pendleton, as he, too, gripped his friend by the hand. "Here you are—you whom I have heard discourse so wisely about such affairs as this—the folly and the vanity of it, and the——" but he paused, snapped his fingers and turned to his wife. "I know what it is! He's here on business."

Mrs. Pendleton gestured her dismay.

"Not that, surely," she said. "There can scarcely be anything here to attract your talents," laughingly to the secret agent. "Ambassadors are the frankest of men, and their doings are open to every one."

"The Baroness and Edyth are cronies," Pendleton informed the other, as his wife turned to the hostess. The latter's expression as Mrs. Pendleton spoke to her in a low tone changed formal politeness to one of interest.

"Oh!" she said; "my dear, I'm afraid of him. And so," smiling to Ashton-Kirk, "you are the remarkable person of whom Mrs. Pendleton has spoken so often? Well, if I ever become involved in a mystery, I promise to call in no one but you."

"I shall be flattered by your confidence," said Ashton-Kirk in the same light tone. "But, I warn you, Mrs. Pendleton is scarcely to be depended upon as regards my work. She allowed herself to be dazzled by a trifling dexterity, so to speak, and makes a very wonderful performance of something that was not at all remarkable."

"Oh, these modest men," sighed the Baroness. "The world is so full of them." In turn she spoke a few words to her husband. His big German head reared, and he curled the upstanding points of his moustache.

"I have heard of you, sir," and his blue eyes searched the secret agent from head to foot.

"The old boy seems somewhat miffed," whispered Pendleton to Fuller; "I wonder what's wrong?"

"He probably does not fancy being interfered with," said Fuller, and he shrugged his shoulders wisely.

"Why," and Pendleton looked astonished, "you don't mean to say that he——" here he paused and his glance was full of inquiry.

"No, nothing directly," answered Fuller. "Just a little affair that seems to have been put up to him, that's all."

There was a brief, low-pitched conversation between Ashton-Kirk and Von Stunnenberg. The latter's manner was one of massive dignity; and not once while he spoke did he take his light-colored eyes from the face of the secret agent. But if he expected to read anything there, he was disappointed. Ashton-Kirk was smilingly candid, genially open. But he said nothing that would throw light upon his errand there that night. The Baron had served under Bismark, and his methods were identical with those of the great chancellor—the sappers worked constantly under cover of a blunt manner and pointed speech.

But in this case the blunt manner pounded vainly against an impregnable wall of practised assurance; and the pointed speeches met with a flashing defense. Impatiently the old diplomat twisted his white moustache; and rather angrily he drew off his sappers, for they were useless except under cover of their more obvious brethren.

"I thank you, sir," said he, with a bow. "To have seen you is a pleasure. And now you will pardon me, I know."

A little later Ashton-Kirk sat with Mrs. Pendleton in a secluded corner.

"Now," she said, holding up one finger, "tell me all about it. Don't try to deceive me. I know the Baron Von Stunnenberg very well, and have never seen him assume that manner of a few moments ago unless there was something of much importance going forward."

"The Baron flatters me by his manner," smiled Ashton-Kirk. "It puts me in quite a glow to think that I am so noticed in high places."

She laughed musically; but her eyes were not without their gravity.

"I know you of old," she said; "you will tell nothing until you are ready. That characteristic made me afraid of you once; but in the midst of the fear there was a good deal of admiration," she confessed with a nod of her stately head. "If you impress every one as you impressed me—that is, every one you are working against—I don't wonder you always succeed. Even while I planned, I knew that I could not hide from you that which you wished to know."

"You were clever," he said; "and you were resourceful. You lacked only experience." While he spoke his eyes went about from place to place as though seeking some one. "Are you acquainted with many here to-night?" he asked.

"Not many," was the answer. She noticed the roving of the singular eyes, and her interest quickened. "Did you expect to see some one?" she inquired.

He nodded.

"I wonder if I know who it is?" She paused for an answer, but he seemed not to hear, and so she went on: "Some one who has done something amiss. Poor thing! Do you know, I feel sorry for him." Then, after a pause: "A man, of course."

He shook his head.

"It's a woman!" Her voice lifted. "It's a woman!" she repeated. "Oh, poor creature!"

She turned upon him two fine eyes filled with concern.

"Perhaps it's a girl," she said. "A girl much like I was—one who can confide in no one, or has no one whom she can trust. Tell me, what is her——"

Just then, in the midst of a group which was about separating, Ashton-Kirk caught sight of Stella Corbin. Mrs. Pendleton noted his expression; her eyes followed the direction of his own. And when they rested upon the slight, girlish figure and saw the eager, frightened look, she turned upon him.

"For shame," she said, reproachfully. "Oh, for shame!"

"You know her then?" said he quietly.

"I only know that she is an English girl and came here with Madame Steinmetz. But," and her brilliant, challenging glance met his own squarely, "I know that she has done nothing. A girl who looks like that could not do anything very wrong."

"It is not always well to judge by appearances," said he, quietly. "Physiognomists place great confidence in their power to read faces; but theirs is scarcely an exact science."

She sat regarding him steadfastly; then nodded and said:

"That is mere evasion. I recognize the ruse, for I have met it once or twice before. You draw upon generalities when questioned in a specific instance; and if your questioner takes that as a direct answer, you do not trouble yourself to put him or her right."

He smiled.

"I said that you needed only experience," he remarked.

Just then a sleek little form came rolling into view; the rosy face, shining bald head and the decoration were familiar to the secret agent.

"Mrs. Pendleton," said the German, and he nodded and waved his hand, "I am given much pleasure to see you."

"How do you do, Colonel Stelzner?" she replied. Then inquiringly: "You have met Mr. Ashton-Kirk?"

"I have met him, yes, but I have not before caught the name." Colonel Stelzner bowed until his gleaming scalp was fully in view. "It gratifies me, sir, to know so famous a person," he concluded.

"Ah, you, too, have heard of him?" Mrs. Pendleton smiled, mischievously. The little German again waved his hand.

"Who has not?" he demanded. "Every one," authoritatively, "on both sides of the ocean. That is," and the hand was held up as though begging a moment's delay in her judgment, "every one who is interested such matters in."

Here Pendleton came up with some friends to whom he presented the secret agent; a few moments later a man-servant approached the latter and said something to him. Ashton-Kirk asked to be pardoned and followed the servant out of the room. But Mrs. Pendleton took no notice of all this; she gave all her attention to the little German. He polished his glittering scalp and chuckled.

"Most secret agents," he went on, "are unknown to the public. They cherish the fancy that they are also unknown to the diplomatic corps; but it is only fancy. Those who are unknown personally are recognized by their methods. Ach ja! They are as open as the day. A man who no eyes has could see it! But he"—and he indicated the spot where Ashton-Kirk had stood with one plump forefinger—"there is one who is not like the others. No, no," he shook his head and his chuckle grew more pronounced, "he is much different."

Ashton-Kirk returned in a few moments, and was soon talking generally with Pendleton's friends, who were mostly young people who laughed a great deal. And while he did not miss a word of what was said, neither did he once take his eyes from that point where Stella Corbin still sat. With her was a small, vivacious, pretty woman, undoubtedly French, whose gestures were most eloquent and the play of whose eyes alone was almost sufficient to tell a close observer what she was saying. Some little distance away was a heavy jowled man with thick black brows and a slow way of turning his small head; in close conversation with him was a slighter man, blond, and with a short, pointed beard. And, for all their apparent occupation in each other's words, their glances kept constantly going toward Miss Corbin and her companion; each movement made by them seemed a matter of intense interest.

And in this they were not alone. Behind where the girl sat ran a massive marble staircase which led to a sort of balcony, palm-lined and used as a resting-place by tired dancers, and a point of vantage by those who merely desired to look on. At the top of the staircase, seated beneath a wide-spreading and flowering plant, were Matsadi, and—yes, it was Okiu!

Fuller caught sight of this latter pair much about the same time as his employer. The secret agent nodded in answer to the young man's low, surprised whisper.

"Yes, I just noticed them," he said.

Fuller turned his glance from Okiu to Stella Corbin; that he was puzzled was frankly shown.

"This is a rather queer situation," he said, in a low, careful tone to Ashton-Kirk. "Japan wanted that paper in the worst way; and this Corbin girl stood in with Okiu in an effort to gain possession of it for that government. And now, with the document in their possession, they begin a flirtation, so to speak, with the Germans."

But the secret agent made no reply to this except to give his helper a warning look; then he plunged into the conversation which the others were carrying on animatedly.

The eyes of the beautiful Mrs. Pendleton had kept Stella Corbin well within range; both the girl and her companion seemed to interest her greatly.

"And so," she said to Colonel Stelzner, "you think Mr. Ashton-Kirk very different from the other government agents?"

He gestured with both hands.

"As different as the sun from the stars," declared he. "The mastery of his art has been to him given. Every one knows him by sight; every one knows him for what he is. And yet he works in such a way that his hand is not noticed until it has closed," here he pantomimed expansively, "and what he has been seeking is in its grasp."

The dance music came to them in swaying, stirring strains; the low laughter and sound of gliding feet came with it.

"Madame Von Steinmetz," spoke Mrs. Pendleton, after a few moments, "is a remarkably expressive woman."

The eyes of the little German went to the lady who was conversing with Stella Corbin. His shoulders shrugged and his hands opened wide.

"It is her race," he said. "The French are mostly so. There is her husband, now," and his gaze singled out the man with the pointed blond beard; "he is German, and has little of the characteristics which mark her."

"How long have they been married?" asked Mrs. Pendleton.

"About ten years, I believe."

"So long as that!" She seemed greatly surprised. "I thought that men did not remain in love with their wives for so great a length of time. And yet he is much in love with her. See, he can't keep his eyes from her."

Colonel Stelzner's little round body shook as probably it had never shaken before. He chuckled and gasped; the tears stood in his eyes.

"Oh, you ladies!" he said at last. "Oh, you ladies, you see everything! Nothing escapes you." Again he shook and chuckled and gasped. But finally he recovered, wiped his eyes and went on: "Ah, yes, I suppose Von Steinmetz is desperately in love with madame. And why not? She is charming."

"Who is that with Von Steinmetz?" she asked.

"That? Oh," and the round little colonel nodded his head knowingly, "that is Hoffer."

Her eyes lingered upon the large-jowled man for a moment. She had heard of him.

"I trust," she smiled, "that Herr Hoffer is not also in love with Madame Von Steinmetz."

Stelzner chuckled.

"It is not possible that you think he might be," he protested.

"Well, he seems inclined to pay her as much attention as her husband. His eyes never move from her."

"Oh," gasped Colonel Stelzner, "you will be the death of me, Mrs. Pendleton; you really will!" And when he had recovered from the fit of laughter into which her observation had thrown him, he added: "But consider, Madame von Steinmetz is not alone. Could it not be possible that Hoffer is interested in the English girl?"

Her fine eyes were fixed directly upon his face, as she said:

"Ah, that is it."

There was something in her tone which drove the laugh from his face; he answered soberly enough.

"I ask if it were not possible; that is all."

People who talk too much upon subjects regarding which it is best that they be silent often get glimpses of their weakness. And Colonel Stelzner had such a flash of inner vision just then. And while he was, more or less dismayed, thinking it over, Mrs. Pendleton discovered Matsadi and Okiu at the head of the staircase.

The interest which they displayed in the two women immediately attracted her; and once more she turned to the little colonel.

"The two Japanese now, which of the ladies attracts them—the English or the French?"

The usually rosy face of Stelzner was rather gray as he replied, and the chuckle so habitual to him had given place to a wan smile.

"The Japanese?" said he. "Oh, yes, those two up there, of course. I have found," with the air of a man speaking more or less at random, "that the Occidental types of women interest Orientals. Oh, yes; it is much so. I have known Japanese to admire—— Ah, Hoffer, how do you do?"

The heavy man, accompanied by Von Steinmetz, was moving by, and Stelzner grasped at their passing as a shipwrecked seaman might grasp at a spar. Reluctantly, so it seemed, the two men paused; and the beautiful Mrs. Pendleton smiled as she bent her head to the salutation of Von Steinmetz.

"Your wife," she said, "is lovely to-night. We have just been admiring her."

The husband seemed none too pleased at this; he fingered his short, light-colored beard and his small blue eyes went to the lady in question.

"It occurred to me also," he said, "that she looked well. But then," and he smiled a little, "I think she usually looks so."

"You are a good husband," and Mrs. Pendleton laughed lightly. "Madame should be proud of you. But," and she arched her brows in wonder, "what an exceedingly interesting girl Miss Corbin must be. See how she holds madame's attention! Even the slightest gesture seems loaded with meaning."

The slim fingers of Von Steinmetz tugged at the pointed beard; Hoffer turned his head with his peculiarly slow motion toward the speaker and his eyes searched her face. But there was nothing there but smiles and bright looks and admiration for what she apparently considered a marked talent.

That Madame Von Steinmetz seemed greatly interested in what Stella Corbin said was plain enough; her eloquent hands were still; her eyes had ceased their byplay and centered themselves upon the girl's face. This latter was even paler than usual, and her face seemed a trifle set; her attitude was one that told of suppressed excitement.

In a throaty German which was sharply distressing, Hoffer began relating a heavy anecdote. Both Von Steinmetz and Stelzner gave it much attention, but Mrs. Pendleton, while she listened, never took her eyes from Stella Corbin and her companion.

For the girl had ceased speaking and leaned back in her chair as though exhausted; Madame Von Steinmetz, her vivacious countenance illumined, was carefully outlining something for the girl's benefit. Hoffer finished the anecdote and his two friends laughed eagerly; Mrs. Pendleton smiled and nodded her appreciation though it is doubtful if she had heard much of it. To Von Steinmetz she said:

"How wonderfully expressive your wife's manner is! See, it is almost as if we could hear what she is saying!"

That Von Steinmetz would have vastly preferred his lady's manner to have been less wonderful was evident; his blue eyes were cold with disapproval; the pointed beard was twisted and tugged painfully.

And while she was manifesting this interest in Miss Corbin and the French woman, Mrs. Pendleton did not altogether lose sight of Ashton-Kirk. She noted that, in a few minutes, he drew away from the group of which her husband made one; and also she noted that his eyes, though they did not seem to do so, never lost a movement made by Stella Corbin.

The two Japanese, as though they had caught sight of some one or something upon the lower floor, had suddenly arisen and descended the staircase.

"The Senora Maselli," murmured Mrs. Pendleton, as she saw Matsadi speak to a beautiful, dark-eyed woman, evidently an Italian. "He is asking her to sing."

And that Senora Maselli was willing to do so was apparent; for she took Matsadi's arm and they crossed to a room, the door of which was only a few feet from where Miss Corbin and Madame Von Steinmetz sat. Okiu, however, remained behind; and as Matsadi was passing through the door, he turned to look over his shoulder toward his countryman which, to a close observer, seemed full of significance.

Madame Von Steinmetz still talked, eagerly, with her hands, eyes and tongue. It were as though, as Mrs. Pendleton thought, the English girl had pictured some dilemma in which she stood and the French woman was pointing the way out. More than once Miss Corbin's hands had gone toward the bag which hung from her arm; but each time they left it unopened, as though she were not altogether persuaded.

"But," Mrs. Pendleton told herself with conviction, "she will do it in the end. When one is anxious to take advice, one usually does so."

The dance music had stopped some little time before; now came the notes of a piano, almost immediately followed by the rush and ring of a human voice. Heads were turned, laughter stopped, voices ceased. Then there was a stir.

"It is Maselli," ran the whisper.

A movement began toward the room from which the singing proceeded. In a moment Mrs. Pendleton's view of Stella Corbin was cut off by the eager and somewhat undignified scamper; through the press she saw the sleek, black head of Okiu and, at no great distance, caught a glimpse of Ashton-Kirk.

A sort of fluttering assailed her ear-drums; it were as though the air were charged with an impending, unseen something. A feeling of suspense filled her; she was astonished to feel herself possessed by an almost irresistible desire to cry out a warning to some indefinite person. And apparently she was not alone in her impression, for now she saw Hoffer, his great jaws rigid, almost thrusting his way forward among the guests; Von Steinmetz and Stelzner were also on the move, and from different directions.

Suddenly there was a pistol shot; startled cries rang out; the throng split as though divided by a great knife. And as it fell asunder there arose another cry, higher and in a different key. The first had been the outcry of those who felt harm impending; the second was that of a single person, and one upon whom the harm had fallen.

It was Miss Corbin; Mrs. Pendleton could see her as she stood white and startled, staring at the silken bag which she held in her hands. Upon one side of her stood Madame Von Steinmetz, aghast, trembling with shock; upon the other stood Ashton-Kirk, imperturbable and keen eyed.

For an instant the affrighted guests swayed upon the verge of panic; then like oil upon troubled waters, soothing words were spoken and explanations suavely proffered. A young man, who looked very red and foolish, had dropped and exploded a chamber of a newly invented revolver, which he had brought to exhibit to an influential official whom he expected to meet. And in the ensuing excitement, Miss Corbin had lost a cherished trifle which would no doubt be found shortly.

Startled people are always anxious to be convinced that there is no occasion for their alarm; and so, more or less satisfied, Von Stunnenberg's guests broke into laughter and relieved chatter.

Passing through little groups, all absorbed in the enjoyment of relating their mutual sensations, Ashton-Kirk made his way toward the hall. His step was unhurried, his manner nonchalant; he spoke lightly to a number of people as he went by.

As he turned into the hall, Mrs. Pendleton followed; she saw him disappear into the coat room, and reappear a moment later, his overcoat on and his hat in his hand. And at the same instant she saw him confronted by the burly forms of Hoffer and the Baron Von Stunnenberg.