XXIII. AT THE INN OF THE TWISTED PINES
XXIV. THE END OF THE PLAY




ILLUSTRATIONS

"You are a soldier--an American officer?" she said,
suddenly. . . . . . _Frontispiece_

Then, as he unbent, his eyes rested on me for the first time.

Our swords fell to talking in the garden of the masked ball.




THE COLONEL OF THE RED HUZZARS


I

A PICTURE AND A WAGER

It was raining heavily and I fastened my overcoat to the neck as I came
down the steps of the Government Building. Pushing through the crowds
and clanging electric cars, at the Smithfield Street corner, I turned
toward Penn Avenue and the Club, whose home is in a big, old-fashioned,
grey-stone building--sole remnant of aristocracy in that section where,