The Lighted Match

Benton looked across the table at the dark face half-obscured behind a

blue fog of cigarette smoke. After a moment he smiled.

"Admiral," he said, "issue your orders."

"You will instruct the Captain," said Manuel promptly, "to head at once

for Villefranche. There you, Señor, will leave the yacht, and I will

go with it to Monte Carlo. I wish to be as soon as possible in the

casino where the drone of the croupier and the clink of outflowing

louis d'or constitute the national refrain."

Benton's eyes narrowed in perplexity. On his face was written curiosity,

but he had agreed to ask no questions. He unhesitatingly put his finger

on the electric bell.

"Ask the Captain to come here as soon as he is at leisure," he directed

when the steward had responded to the call.

"Good," commended Blanco. Then with a sorrowful shake of his head he

commiserated: "I am sorry that you are to be denied the excitement of

the rouge et noir and the trente et quarente of the gold table,

Señor, but if the Countess Astaride and Louis should meet there, the

lady would know you. I fancy that she will not again mistake you for

someone else. As for myself, neither of them yet knows me."

"Are they at Monte Carlo?" Benton sat suddenly upright, and Blanco had

the first reward of his diplomacy, as he noted the quickening interest

in the questioning eyes.

"I am only guessing, Señor. If the guess is good, I may learn

something. What is in my mind, may fail. If you are willing to trust me

I would rather not reveal it now."

"And I?" questioned Benton. "Have I any part to play in this, or do you

go it alone?"

Blanco leaned forward.

"It may be necessary to have someone near enough to the Palace in Puntal

to insure immediate action--action to be taken on the instant.... You

must return to the city, Señor.... It will be for only a few days. The

Grand Palace Hotel is above the town in large gardens.... If you choose

you can remain there with your presence absolutely unknown, so far as

the city proper is concerned. Also, the Marconi office has a station in

the hotel grounds. With a code which we have yet to arrange, I can keep

in touch with you...."

The next day Benton was a passenger by steamer from Villefranche to

Puntal.

The Grand Palace Hotel, dominating its own acres of subtropical gardens,

looks down on the city as one seated on an eminence commands the common

things at his feet. Between its grounds and the scalloped bay, run the

huddled habitations of the town's water-front, with its delicately

tinted walls and riotously colored gardens invading every crevice.