"Did you call the terminal control?"
"I did. The official in charge and the starter had seen no such
accident; had given no such information. Some masquerader in uniform
must have intercepted you, Jim."
"I found him coming toward me on the sidewalk not far from the
kiosque. He was in uniform; I never dreamed he was not the genuine
thing."
"There is no blame attached to you----"
"Naïa, it actually sickens me to discover how little sense I possess.
I've been through enough to drive both suspicion and caution into this
wooden head of mine----"
"What have you been through, Jim?" asked the Princess calmly.
"I'll tell you. I didn't play a brilliant rôle, I'm sorry to admit.
Not common sense but sheer luck pulled me through as far as your own
doorstep. And there," he added disgustedly, "the gods no doubt grew
tired of such an idiot, and they handed me what was coming to me."
He was so thoroughly and so boyishly ashamed and angry with himself
that a faint smile flitted over the Princess Naïa's lips.
"Proceed, James," she said.
"All right. Only first may I ask--who is Ilse Dumont?"
For a moment the Princess sat silent, expressionless, intent on the
man whose clear, inquiring eyes still questioned her.
The Princess finally answered with a question: "Did she cause you any trouble, Jim?"
"Every bit I had was due to her. Also--and here's a paradox--I
shouldn't be here now if Ilse Dumont had not played square with me.
Who is she?"
The Princess Naïa did not reply immediately. Instead, she dropped one
silken knee over the other, lighted a cigarette, and sat for a few
moments gazing into space. Then: "Ilse Dumont," she said, "is a talented and exceedingly pretty young
woman who was born in Alsace of one German and one thoroughly
Germanised parent.
"She played two seasons in Chicago in light opera under another name.
She had much talent, an acceptable voice and she became a local
favourite."
The Princess looked at her cigarette; continued speaking as though
addressing it: "She sang at the Opéra Comique here in Paris the year before last and
last year. Her rôles were minor ones. Early this spring she abruptly
broke her contract with the management and went to New York."
Neeland said bluntly: "Ilse Dumont is an agent in the service of the Turkish Government."
The Princess nodded.
"Did you know it, Naïa?"
"I began to suspect it recently."
"May I ask how?"
The Princess glanced at Rue and smiled: "Ruhannah's friend, Colonel Izzet Bey, was very devoted to Minna
Minti----"
"To whom!" exclaimed Neeland, astounded.
"To Ilse Dumont. Minna Minti is her stage name," said the Princess.