"Oh, Paul," said Maggie, rather indifferently. Indeed, it seemed as if
her lightness of heart had suddenly failed her. "Well, perhaps he is
deeply involved in schemes for the resurrection of the Polish kingdom,
or something of that sort."
"That sounds tame," put in Steinmetz. "I think you would construct a
better romance respecting the princess. In books it is always the
beautiful princesses who are most deeply dyed in crime."
Maggie opened her fan and closed it again.
"Well," she said, tapping on the arm of her chair with it; "I give Etta
a mysterious past. She is the sort of person who would laugh and dance
at a ball with the knowledge that there was a mine beneath the floor."
"I do not think I am," said Etta, with a shudder. She rose rather
hurriedly, and crossed the room with a great rustle of silks.
"Stop her!" she whispered, as she passed Steinmetz.
CHAPTER XXI
A SUSPECTED HOUSE
The Countess Lanovitch and Catrina were sitting together in the
too-luxurious drawing-room that overlooked the English Quay and the
Neva. The double windows were rigorously closed, while the inner panes
were covered with a thick rime. The sun was just setting over the
marshes that border the upper waters of the Gulf of Finland, and lit up
the snow-clad city with a rosy glow which penetrated to the room where
the two women sat.
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