will." (Sensible little Britisher!) "What she is about to do will be
known only to four persons, one of whom is a downright rascal."

"A rascal?" slipped my lips, half-unconsciously. "I trust that I
haven't given you that impression," I added eagerly. (A rascal? The
plot was thickening to formidable opaqueness.)

"No, no!" she cried hastily, with a flash of summer on her lips. (What
is more charming than an English woman with a clear sense of the
humorous?) "You haven't given me that impression at all."

"Thank you." My vanity expanded under the genial warmth of this
knowledge. It was quite possible that she looked upon me favorably.

"To proceed. There is to be a kind of mock marriage here to-night, and
you are to witness it." She watched me sharply.

I frowned.

"Patience! Not literally a mock marriage, but the filling out of a
bogus certificate."

"I do not understand at all."

"You have heard of Hermann Steinbock, a cashiered officer?"

"Yes. I understand that he is the rascal to whom you refer."

"Well, this certificate is to be filled out completely. To outwit the
duke, her Highness commits--"