"And the lady's real residence?" impatiently queried the budding
lover. "That is an absolute secret, for Grau carefully hides away
his coming stars. Somewhere on Long Island an old Hungarian noble
family have had a retreat since the days of Kossuth.

"The Fraulein is their guest, and, for other reasons than complete
faith with Grau, she receives no one. She is as proud and haughty as
she is beautiful, and rumor has it that the pursuit of an Austrian
Archduke drove her to the safety of our shores. All this I have
gathered from my old friend, Signore Raffoni."

Clayton mutely followed Lilienthal to the door of a private room
in the "Bavaria" and, with a wildly beating heart, was bowing low
before the woman whose shining eyes had brought to his bosom such
strange unrest.

"It is like a page from a novel," the flute-like voice murmured,
"that this lucky picture should have brought us together again, as
it strangely did once face to face."

Randall Clayton's ears drank in that soft, wooing accent, and all
the ardor of his eyes betrayed the instant recognition which lay
behind the diva's merry words.

When he had murmured his thanks, the presence of Lilienthal seemed
to be a bar to any rapprochement. Clayton was fain to accept Fraulein
Gluyas' courtesy in allowing him a choice as to the handling of
the picture or its replica.