Mr. Courtney was speaking about somebody's beautiful eyes; who is
the fair one in question?"

"The Princess Ziska," said Lord Fulkeward. "I was saying that I
don't quite like the look of her eyes."

"Why not? Why not?" demanded the doctor with sudden asperity.
"What's the matter with them?"

"Everything's the matter with them!" replied Ross Courtney with a
forced laugh. "They are too splendid and wild for Fulke; he likes
the English pale-blue better than the Egyptian gazelle-black."

"No, I don't," said Lord Fulkeward, speaking more animatedly than
was customary with him. "I hate, pale-blue eyes. I prefer soft
violet-gray ones, like Miss Murray's."

"Miss Helen Murray is a very charming young lady," said Dr. Dean.
"But her beauty is quite of an ordinary type, while that of the
Princess Ziska--"

"Is EXTRA-ordinary--exactly! That's just what I say!" declared
Courtney. "I think she is the loveliest woman I have ever seen."

There was a pause, during which the little doctor looked with a
ferret-like curiosity from one man to the other. Sir Chetwynd Lyle
rose ponderously up from the depths of his arm-chair.

"I think," said he, "I had better go and get into my uniform--the
Windsor, you know! I always have it with me wherever I go; it