started for the Riviera." He hesitated, glancing at Mellin. "Can you
give me half a dozen words with you in private?"

"You'll have to excuse me, I'm afraid. I've only got about ten minutes
to dress. See you to-morrow."

"I should like it to be as soon as possible," the journalist said
seriously. "It isn't on my own account, and I--"

"All right. You come to my room at ten t'morrow morning?"

"Well, if you can't possibly make it to-night," said Cornish
reluctantly. "I wish--"

"Can't possibly."

And Cooley, taking Mellin by the arm, walked rapidly down the corridor.
"Funny ole correspondent," he murmured. "What do _I_ know about the
Vatican?"




V. Lady Mount Rhyswicke

The four friends of Madame de Vaurigard were borne to her apartment from
the Magnifique in Cooley's big car. They sailed triumphantly down and up
the hills in a cool and bracing air, under a moon that shone as brightly
for them as it had for Caesar, and Mellin's soul was buoyant within him.
He thought of Cranston and laughed aloud. What would Cranston say if it