at least, would like to be allowed to open it and have you take the
particulars. If she has no objection, you might be able to order
me a replica."

Lilienthal stood musing for a moment with his ferret eyes gleaming
under their bushy brows. "I might try! Suppose you look in here
after your lunch. The fact is," laughed the dealer, "Fraulein
Gluyas only took a sudden fancy to the Danube view a few days ago.
And she has gone down to the bank to get the money to gratify her
whim. She seemed to think some one else might claim it, and she
dropped in a half an hour ago, and ordered it packed up. She will
take it home in her carriage, as such a proof can be easily injured."

Randall Clayton's eyes were fixed on the floor, as he nodded an
assent. "I'll be back in half an hour. See what you can do," he
pleasantly said. "And at any rate, I'll be thankful to be allowed
to have the data."

"I think I can fix it all right," genially remarked Lilienthal.
"Fraulein Gluyas is a Hungarian prima donna of rare merit, an artist,
too, of no mean order. She may be heard here in grand opera this
winter. She is living in retirement until Mr. Grau's return, as
she does not want to be heralded before the public."

Clayton tried to appear unconcerned as he asked, "Is she married?"

"She is single," carelessly remarked Lilienthal, showing Clayton to
the door. "And I am told she has refused some very eligible offers
at home. But she is a Magyar of an old and noble family and they
detest the Austrian nobility, who have now all the fortunes and