like this! Dmitry had arranged everything. Paul was a young English
secretary to Madame, who had much writing to do. And in any case it is not
the affair of respectable foreign hotels to pry into their clients'
relationship when a large suite has been engaged.

Paul's valet, the son of an old retainer of the family, was an honest
fellow, and devoted to his master--but Sir Charles Verdayne had decided to
make things doubly sure.

"Tompson," he had said, the morning before they left, "however Mr.
Verdayne may amuse himself while you are abroad, your eyes and mouth are
shut, remember. No d----d gossip back to the servants here, or in hotels,
or houses--and, above all, no details must ever reach her Ladyship. If he
gets into any thundering mess let me know--but mum's the word, d'y
understand, Tompson?"

"I do, Sir Charles," said Tompson, stolidly.

And he did, as events proved.

The rooms on the Buergenstock looked so simple, so unlike the sitting-room
at Lucerne! Just fresh and clean and primitive. Paul wandered through
them, and in the one allotted to himself he came upon Anna--Madame's maid,
whom Dmitry had pointed out to him--putting sheets as fine as gossamer on
his bed; with the softest down pillows. How dear of his lady to think thus
of him!--her secretary.

The tiger--his tiger--had arrived in the sitting-room, and some simple
cushions of silk; sweet-peas and spring flowers decorated the vases--there
were no tuberoses, or anything hot-house, or forced.