The Iron Count was showing her some rare antique bronzes he had

collected in the south. The luncheon was over and the countess had

strolled off toward the bastions with the young officers, leaving

Beverly alone with the host. Servants came in to clear the tables, but

the count harshly ordered them to wait until the guests had departed.

"It is the dearest thing I have seen," said Beverly, holding a rare old

candlestick at arm's length and looking at it in as many ways as the

wrist could turn. Her loose sleeves ended just below the elbows. The

count's eyes followed the graceful curves of her white forearm with an

eagerness that was annoying.

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"I prize it more dearly than any other piece in my collection," he

said. "It came from Rome; it has a history which I shall try to tell you

some day, and which makes it almost invaluable. A German nobleman

offered me a small fortune if I would part with it."

"And you wouldn't sell it?"

"I was saving it for an occasion, your highness," he said, his steely

eyes glittering. "The glad hour has come when I can part with it for a

recompense far greater than the baron's gold."

"Oh, isn't it lucky you kept it?" she cried. Then she turned her eyes

away quickly, for his gaze seemed greedily endeavoring to pierce through

the lace insertion covering her neck and shoulders. Outside the window

the steady tramp of the tall guard went on monotonously.

"The recompense of a sweet smile, a tender blush and the unguarded

thanks of a pretty woman. The candlestick is yours, Miss Calhoun,--if

you will repay me for my sacrifice by accepting it without reservation."

Slowly Beverly Calhoun set the candlestick down upon the table her eyes

meeting his with steady disdain.

"What a rare old jester you are, Count Marlanx," she said without a

smile." If I thought you were in earnest I should scream with

laughter. May I suggest that we join the countess? We must hurry along,

you know. She and I have promised to play tennis with the princess at

three o'clock." The count's glare of disappointment lasted but a moment.

The diplomacy of egotism came to his relief, and he held back the gift

for another day, but not for another woman.

"It grieves me to have you hurry away. My afternoon is to be a dull one,

unless you permit me to watch the tennis game," he said.




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