I didn't know what she meant, but Izzet Bey turned a bright scarlet,

bowed again, and returned to the smoking room.

And that night, while Suzanne was unhooking me, Princess Naïa came

into my bedroom and asked me some questions, and I told her about the

box of instruments and the diary, and the slippery linen papers

covered with drawings and German writing, with which I used to play.

She said never to mention them to anybody, and that I should never

permit anybody to examine those military papers, because it might be

harmful to America.

How odd and how thrilling! I am most curious to know what all this

means. It seems like an exciting story just beginning, and I wonder

what such a girl as I has to do with secrets which concern the Turkish

Chargé in Paris.

Don't you think it promises to be romantic? Do you suppose it has

anything to do with spies and diplomacy and kings and thrones, and

terrible military secrets? One hears a great deal about the embassies

here being hotbeds of political intrigue. And of course France is

always thinking of Alsace and Lorraine, and there is an ever-present

danger of war in Europe.

Mr. Neeland, it thrills me to pretend to myself that I am actually

living in the plot of a romance full of mystery and diplomacy and

dangerous possibilities. I hope something will develop, as something

always does in novels.

And alas, my imagination, which always has been vivid, needed almost

nothing to blaze into flame. It is on fire now; I dream of courts and

armies, and ambassadors, and spies; I construct stories in which I am

the heroine always--sometimes the interesting and temporary victim of

wicked plots; sometimes the all-powerful, dauntless, and adroit

champion of honour and righteousness against treachery and evil!

Did you ever suppose that I still could remain such a very little

girl? But I fear that I shall never outgrow my imagination. And it

needs almost nothing to set me dreaming out stories or drawing

pictures of castles and princes and swans and fairies. And even this

letter seems a part of some breathlessly interesting plot which I am

not only creating but actually a living part of and destined to act

in.

Do you want a part in it? Shall I include you? Rather late to ask your

permission, for I have already included you. And, somehow, I think the

Yellow Devil ought to be included, too.

Please write to me, just once. But don't speak of the papers which

father had, and don't mention Herr Conrad Wilner's box if you write.

The Princess says your letter might be stolen.




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