The Dark Star

"Naïa! Where is Mr. Neeland?" continued the voice, fearfully.

"He is here, Rue! He is all right. Go back to your room, dear. I have

a reason for asking you."

Listening, she heard a door close above; then she touched Ilse on the

shoulder and motioned her to follow up the stairs. Halfway up the

Princess halted, bent swiftly over the banisters: "James!" she called softly.

"Yes?"

"Go into the pantry and find a fruit basket and fill it with whatever

food you can find. Hurry, please."

He discovered the pantry presently, and a basket of fruit there.

Poking about he contrived to disinter from various tins and ice-boxes

some cold chicken and biscuits and a bottle of claret. These he

wrapped hastily in a napkin which he found there, placed them in the

basket of fruit, and came out into the hall just as Ilse Dumont, in

the collar and cuffs and travelling coat of a servant, descended,

carrying a satchel and a suitcase.

"Good business!" he whispered, delighted. "You're all right now,

Scheherazade! And for heaven's sake, keep out of France hereafter. Do

you promise?"

He had taken the satchel and bag from her and handed both, and the

fruit basket, to Caron, who stood outside the door.

In the shadowy hall those two confronted each other now, probably for

the last time. He took both her hands in his.

"Good-bye, Scheherazade dear," he said, with a new seriousness in his

voice which made the tone of it almost tender.

"G-good-bye----" The girl's voice choked; she bent her head and rested

her face on the hands he held clasped in his.

He felt her hot tears falling, felt the slender fingers within his

own tighten convulsively; felt her lips against his hand--an instant

only; then she turned and slipped through the open door.

A moment later the Princess Naïa appeared on the stairs, descending

lightly and swiftly, her motor coat over her arm.

"Jim," she said in a low voice, "it's the wretched girl's only chance.

They know about her; they're looking for her now. But I am trusted by

my Ambassador; I shall have what papers I ask for; I shall get her

through to an American steamer."

"Princess Naïa, you are splendid!"

"You don't think so, Jim; you never did.... Be nice to Rue. The child

has been dreadfully frightened about you.... And," added the Princess

Mistchenka with a gaily forced smile, resting her hand on Neeland's

shoulder for an instant, "don't ever kiss Rue Carew unless you mean it

with every atom of your heart and soul.... I know the child.... And I

know you. Be generous to her, James. All women need it, I think, from

such men as you--such men as you," she added laughingly, "who know not

what they do."