“Dorward,” the latter exclaimed, “I can’t help it! Yours is only a personal ambition—I stand for my country. Share the knowledge of that packet with me or I shall shoot.” 

 “Then shoot and be d—d to you!” Dorward declared fiercely. “This is my show, not yours. You and your country can go to—” 

 He broke off without finishing his sentence. There was a thunderous knocking at the door. The two men looked at one another for a moment, speechless. Then Bellamy, with a smothered oath, replaced the revolver in his pocket. 

 “You’ve thrown away our chance,” he said bitterly. 

 The knocking was repeated. When Bellamy with a shrug of the shoulders answered the summons, three men in plain clothes entered. They saluted Bellamy, but their eyes were traveling around the room. 

 “We are seeking Herr Dorward, the American journalist!” one exclaimed. “He was here but a moment ago.” 

 Bellamy pointed to the inner door. He had had too much experience in such matters to attempt any prevarication. The three men crossed the room quickly and Bellamy followed in the rear. He heard a cry of disappointment from the foremost as he opened the door. The inner room was empty! 

 

CHAPTER III “OURS IS A STRANGE COURTSHIP”

 Louise looked up eagerly as he entered. 

 “There is news!” she exclaimed. “I can see it in your face.” 

 “Yes,” Bellamy answered, “there is news! That is why I have come. Where can we talk?” 

 She rose to her feet. Before them the open French windows led on to a smooth green lawn. She took his arm. 

 “Come outside with me,” she said. “I am shut up here because I will not see the doctors whom they send, or any one from the Opera House. An envoy from the Palace has been and I have sent him away.” 

 “You mean to keep your word, then?” 

 “Have I ever broken it? Never again will I sing in this City. It is so.” 

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