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 the new secretary’s engagement to his employer’s cousin. Singularly enough, this was one of the very few subjects which the girl did not touch upon in her confidences to her new friend.

Presently the importunities of the Duke, backed by a general murmur of request, prevailed, and Leonie began a quaint old melody in a clear contralto that at any other time would have held Sybil an enthralled listener. As it was, she took instant advantage of the rippling flood of sound that filled the room to resume her talk, though for the moment the continuity was not apparent.

“Beaumanoir House was burgled the other night, and we caught a man trying to get into my cousin’s bedroom,” she whispered.

“No. Really? I—I saw nothing in the papers,” replied Mrs. Talmage Eglinton in even tones, but with another turn of the white shoulders and a sudden shading of her eyes the better to watch the fair narrator’s face.

“That was because the Duke let the man go—didn’t want any fuss just after coming into the title; and quite reasonable, I call it,” Sybil proceeded, “And that’s where the fun comes in. Mr. Forsyth insists that my cousin is the