Recognizing the superscription, the ambassador
impatiently shoved it aside, intending to disregard it. But irritated
curiosity finally triumphed, and he opened it. A white card on which was
written this command was his reward:
"It is necessary that you come to the embassy at once."
There was no signature. The handwriting was unmistakably that of a
woman, and just as unmistakably strange to him. He frowned a little as
he stared at it wonderingly, then idly turned the card over. There was
no name on the reverse side--only a crest. Evidently the count
recognized this, for his impassive face reflected surprise for an
instant, and this was followed by a keen, bewildered interest. Finally
he arose, made his apologies, and left the room. His automobile was at
the door.
[Illustration: The handwriting was unmistakably that of a woman.]
"To the embassy," he directed the chauffeur.
And within five minutes he was there. His secretary met him in the hall.
"The lady is waiting in your office," he explained apologetically. "I
gave her your message, but she said she must see you and would write you
a line herself.
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