The Birmingham age-herald., 1923-04-15

which she was now gazing. looked very young indeed. It was only the colorcd photograph, hastily prepared the best the youthful wooer could obtain at the mo- ment.
 There were besides few letters. The first, evidently dictated by state official, conveyed the offer of the royal hand. The second ringing more human and sincere, urged upon her the proxy marriage; and the third and last, which nobody knew she possessed, had been handed secretly to her by Michael Ferolitz just before the cere- mony.
 It was this third letter which had touched some spring in the heart of Evadnc which had sent her to the frontier full of the most romantic anticipations. For it was a love- letter; and to the young girl who received it, bore the stamp of every truth.
 Lconhardt had let himself go in that let ter He told her that he was not merely her state husband but her lover-that he had fallen in love, like the prince in the Arabian Nights-with her picture ("Cer- .tainly sent him better one than he sent me!'' had been her thought.) He wanted her to know that, if she so chose, they might be everything to one another, they might live two lives, the one before their : people, and the other in an enchanted gar < den of love, sacred to their two selves. If she wished this to be so-if she gave him leave to woo her, to be her lover as well as her husband, he asked her to hand to him, when they met, the token inclosed in the little carved box which contained the note. That token was key, a tiny golden key; and a label was affixed to it, bearing, in Leonhardt's rather boyish hand the words -"The Master Key.''
 The unusual mature of this secret com munication-the convincing animation of it's style-had produced a powerful effect. Feroltz, moreover, was an eloquent advo- cate, devoted to the prince. He assured her that Leonhardt was going to be great He would hold Pannonia in the hollow of his hand.
 A bright hope had bouyed up the bride during the quaint medieval ceremony which made her queen. The rosiest dreams had borne her company. When, three days later, she set out, with her half brother, the king, in attendance, for the little frontier town of Syllis, where the bridegroom was to join them, she was all one thrill of eager antici-
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 patton.
 The shock of the ghastly tiding which greeted her next morning was proportion ately severe. Even now, after the lapse of years, memory winced away from the pie ture of the room in the ancient, humble hos telry transformed by Leonhardt's orders into bower of luxury for his bride-and of the entrance of King Boris, his face chalk white, hardly able to speak for the horror of what he must say.
 She remembered nothing of what fol- lowed, nothing of the piteous homeward journey.
 At her earnest plea, Boris had allowed her to go into the mountains, to the old castle of Orienthal, where she was born. There, in an absolute seclusion, she lived, or rather existed, for three months; until she was called back sharply to life by the arrival of the mysterious message.
 It so happened that, upon the Hateful evening, the princess went up to her own room alone, her maid having been called suddenly away by the illness of her mother.
 Upon entering the chamber, Evadne's eye was caught by pile of things upon her toilet table. The various brushes, mirrors, boxes and so. on, had been collected into heap, as though by the hand of some mis- chievous child
 She stood moment in surprise and then began to move the things. Under them was a tiny embroidered mat, and under that, again, was small bit of paper, folded tightly. Apparently it had been torn from the margin of a newspaper by somebody who had no scissors. It was about eight