Jessie sat listening in a vague way to a girl who sat chatting by her side. She had not the least idea what the girl was saying, nor, indeed, had she any clue to the identity of the speaker. The talk was a little confidential, and was evidently the continuation of some confidence began at another time. Jessie nodded and smiled, and by instinct looked sympathetic at the right moment.

"And what would you say to Reggie under the circumstances?" the girl asked. "It isn't as if George had behaved badly, because he really hasn't, you know. Vera, you are not listening."

Jessie laughed in a dreamy kind of way. The whole thing was getting horribly on her nerves now. She felt how utterly impossible it would be to keep up much longer. She was utterly tired out; she longed for something to inspire her flagging strength. She began to understand why men drink in certain circumstances. But she was just equal to the occasion.

"I am dead tired, I am half asleep," she said. "And my head is racking. Ask me again, my dear, when I am capable of a coherent thought or two. And as to Reggie, why, what can you do better than trust your own woman's instinct. Have I not always thought that——"

But there was no reason for Jessie to prevaricate any further. Relieved at last from her onerous duties, Lady Merehaven was crossing the room. There was no chance of escape so far as Jessie could see, the guests had dwindled down to a comfortable number including the Queen of Asturia. She would have to wait so long as the king chose to play bridge; it would be folly to leave him there. Lady Merehaven came and dropped into a seat by Jessie's side.

"My dear Ada, money is bid for you," she said to the confidential girl. "Your father is positively fussing for you in the hall. He said something about an early excursion on the river to-morrow."

The girl rose with a pleasant little laugh and kissed Jessie. Evidently there was some very clever friend of Vera Galloway's. As she flitted away Lady Merehaven turned to Jessie.

"I have heard the most extraordinary idea suggested to-night," she said. "I understand from your uncle that the idea emanated from Prince Mazaroff. He said that you were not yourself, but somebody else. It sounds very Irish, you know, but there it is. My dear child, how pale you are. Short-sighted as I am, I can see how pale you are."

"I have a dreadful headache," Jessie said unsteadily. "What did the prince mean?"

"Really, I have no idea. I could see that he was very annoyed about something. He told some queer story to the effect that there was a girl in a Bond Street shop who was the very image of you. The only distant branch of our family whose women are remarkably like ours are the Harcourts. But I understand that they have disappeared altogether. It is just possible, of course, that one of the girls might have come down to service in a shop. Have you heard anything of this?"

"I have been told so," Jessie said boldly. "Ronald Hope told me. But why should you trouble?"

"My dear, this is rather a serious business. You heard what happened to Countess Saens. You heard what the countess's maid said. There is no doubt that this girl, who is so very like you, actually committed that robbery. I am going to ask your uncle to enquire into the matter. We shall have the police arresting you for a swindler or something of that kind."

Jessie suppressed a tendency to burst into hysterical laughter. It was fortunate for her that somebody called Lady Merehaven away at this moment, or Jessie's laughter had turned to tears. She crept away through the little room where the bridge players were deep in their game into the conservatory beyond. The king was still playing, and behind his chair was a dark, military looking man with a stern face. It was quite evident that he was on guard over the royal presence. Jessie's mood changed when once she found herself alone. She felt sad and desolate and lonely and utterly beyond her strength. She placed her aching head between her hands and the tears ran down her cheeks.

For a time she wept there quietly. Her eyes were still misty with tears when the noise of rustling skirts attracted her attention. She wiped her face hurriedly, but it was too late to take away all traces of emotion. And as the tears were brushed from the long lashes, Jessie saw the queen before her.

The queen was smiling graciously, but the smile turned to a look of concern. She sat down by the girl's side and slipped an arm round her neck. It was one of the soft, womanly touches that endeared the queen to all who knew her. She was all a woman now.

"What is the matter?" she asked. "I have seen too much trouble in my life not to feel for it in others. And you are so brave and firm as a rule. Let me help you; forget who I am. Let me be as good a friend to you as you have been to me, Vera."

The last word touched Jessie. It seemed horrible to play a part with such a woman as this. And yet the night would have been a bad one for Asturia without the guardian girl from Bond Street. Jessie felt a strong inclination to tell the truth.

"I had better not say, perhaps," she said. "And yet you can help me. There is one thing that I dread—and that is to stay to-night under this roof. Pray don't ask me why, the secret is not all my own. I feel that I dare not stay."

The queen asked no curious questions; there was a phase of temperament here that puzzled her. Very softly she took Jessie's hand in hers and stroked it.

"I know that nervous restlessness," she said. "Who better? But then with me every shadow hides an enemy. Even my friends are enemies sometimes. So you dread staying here to-night. Why?"

"I cannot tell you, madame." Jessie said in a low voice. "And yet if we were elsewhere I might be tempted to speak the truth. Again, I must be out very early in the morning. If you could help me——"

"Help you! Of course I can help you! What is the use of being a queen if I cannot do a little thing like that? One of my women has fallen ill, and I am rather awkwardly situated. If you will come with me to-night you shall take her place. How would that suit you?"

Jessie gasped with pleasure. The whole burden of her trouble seemed to have fallen from her shoulders. She rose to her feet as if anxious to escape at once. A new colour came into her face. The queen smiled, and pulled the girl down into her seat again.

"You are as impetuous and headstrong as you are courageous," she said. "I cannot go yet. There is something still to be done. A message has to be sent to Captain Alexis, the gentleman who you can see from here standing behind the king's chair. It is his duty not to allow his majesty out of his sight. But you need not fear. I shall make everything right with Lady Merehaven."

"If you only knew what a relief it is to me!" Jessie murmured. "I dared not stay here to-night. I should have betrayed everything. And after being so wonderfully successful so far——"

Jessie paused, conscious that she was saying too much. The queen regarded her with astonishment. A look of haughtiness—pride, something like suspicion, too, crossed her handsome, weary face.

"Evidently there is more here than meets the eye," she said coldly. "I have pledged my word, and I am not going to break it now. Possibly you may have a story to tell me presently."

"I will tell you everything if you will only be kind to me," Jessie exclaimed. "Ah, madame, if you only knew what I had gone through and suffered for you to-night——"

"True," the queen said hastily and with a change of tone. "I had forgotten for the moment. Only I hate mysteries. My life has been poisoned by them for years. Stay here and compose yourself, and I will see Lady Merehaven. Then I will send for your maid and give her instructions what to do. Don't stir from here."

Jessie murmured her thanks. She was only too glad to remain where she was and get a little time to think. At any rate, she was free from the dread of having to pass a night at Merehaven House. It was all very well for her to pose as Vera Galloway when dressed for the part and under the shaded lights. But in the strong light of day in her simple night clothing, and with her hair free, it would be a miracle if Vera Galloway's maid did not detect the difference.

Jessie lay back and closed her eyes with a blissful sense of freedom from danger. Surely it would make no difference if she told the queen everything? After all, she had done as much for Asturia as Vera had done, and perhaps more. She had proved her courage and her devotion, and no girl could have done more. Just for a moment Jessie fell into a quiet doze.

She was awakened at length by the entry of a servant, who came with the information that the carriage of the Queen of Asturia was at the door, that her majesty desired to see Miss Galloway. There was a new life and strength in Jessie as she rose to obey the summons.

"Say I am coming at once," she said. "Her majesty is in the hall, I suppose?"