Thank you.'

'Please convey to the Earl and Countess our gratitude for their cooperation. I shall, of course, write when the talks are concluded. There are to be some other guests present, I understand?'

'Yes, an American couple by the name of Peabody. He's in oil, I believe.'

'They are the only ones?'

'The only ones I know of. My niece, Geraldine, may have some friends of her own down. Why - do you think she ought to be asked to put them off?'

'By no means. We do not want to give the impression that anything out of the ordinary is taking place there. By the way, how much do you know about your opposite number?'

'Adler? Only that he's been very much the power behind the throne in the Duchy in recent years.'

'Comparatively few people know even that much. The general public have barely heard of him. Have you realised how rarely you see his picture in the papers?'

'No, I hadn't. But, of course, it's quite true.'

'He's an American, you know.'

'Really?'

'Well, half-American. His mother was American and he lived there most of his life until about ten years ago. He met the present Grand Duke at Harvard and returned to the Duchy with him. Since then he's never looked back - even though he's reported to be a highly unconventional kind of diplomat. Apparently he's the one man in the country who's got all the facts necessary to conduct the negotiations at his finger tips - without even having to consult notes.'

'Remarkable. Who is this man Felman who is accompanying him?'

'Oh, just a young aide or secretary of some kind. We are not, at their request, laying on any official welcome. We do not even know by what means they are travelling to this country. They will make their own way to Alderley.'

The Prime Minister rose. 'Now I must wish you luck - and assure you that if you succeed in bringing these negotiations to a satisfactory and speedy conclusion, I will not let the fact go unrecognised.'


CHAPTER THREE

Guests

'I'd just like to see any doggone jewel thief try to lift my Carrie's diamonds. Even this guy they call the Wraith.' And Mr. Hiram S. Peabody looked pugnaciously up from the magazine out of which the faces of himself and his wife stared at him.

His secretary, John Evans, who had been the one to bring the magazine to him, gave a sigh. 'I'm afraid you might get your wish, HS.'

'Let him. I'll be ready. My daddy didn't make half a million bucks, and I didn't turn it into fifty million, by backing down to cheap crooks.'

The two men were in the sitting-room of Mr. Peabody's suite at the Savoy Hotel in London. Evans, a thin young man, with hornrimmed glasses and a small toothbrush moustache, was looking harassed. The Wraith is hardly a cheap crook, sir. And I'm not suggesting you should back down to anybody.'

'Tell me, John, how long have you been with us?'

Evans looked surprised.