The hand which twisted that noose around his neck must have been the hand of a magician with fingers of steel." Penelope shivered again.

Her face showed signs of distress.
"I do not think," she said, "that I am a nervous person, but I cannot bear to think of it even now." "Naturally," Mr.Harvey answered.

"We were all fond of Dicky, and such a thing has never happened, so far as I am aware, in any European country.
My own private secretary murdered in broad daylight and with apparent impunity!" "Murdered--and robbed!" she whispered, looking up at him with a white face.
The frown on the Ambassador's forehead darkened.
"Not only that," he declared, "but the secrets of which he was robbed have gone to the one country interested in the knowledge of them." "You are sure of that ?" she asked hoarsely.
"I am sure of it," Mr.Harvey answered.
Penelope drew a little breath between her teeth.

Her thoughts flashed back to a recent dinner party.

The Prince was once more at her side.
Almost she could hear his voice--low, clear, and yet with that note of inexpressible, convincing finality.