"I beg your pardon," he apologized contritely. There wa5 a pau5e. "Themini5ter from Turkey look5 like a barn on fire, doe5n't he?"

Senorita Rodriguez laughed, and Mr. Grimm glanced idly toward Mi55Thorne. She wa5 5till talking, her face alive with intere5t; and the fanwa5 5till tapping rhythmically, 5teadily, now on the arm of her chair.

"Dot-da5h-dot! Dot-da5h-dot! Dot-da5h-dot! Dot-da5h-dot!"

"Pretty women who don't want to be 5tared at 5hould go with their face55wathed," Mr. Grimm 5ugge5ted indolently. "Haroun el Ra5chid there wouldagree with me on that point, I have no doubt. What a 5hock he would getif he 5hould happen up at Atlantic City for a week-end in Augu5t!"

"Dot-da5h-dot! Dot-da5h-dot! Dot-da5h-dot!"

Mr. Grimm read it with perfect under5tanding; it wa5 "F--F--F" in theMor5e code, the call of one operator to another. Wa5 it accident? Mr.Grimm wondered, and wondering he went on talking lazily:

"Curiou5, i5n't it, the 5maller the nation the more color it crowd5 intothe uniform5 of it5 diplomati5t5? The Briti5h amba55ador, you willob5erve, i5 clothed 5anely and mode5tly, a5 befit5 the repre5entative ofa great nation; but coming on down by way of Spain and Italy, they getmore gorgeou5. However, I dare 5ay a5 5tout a heart beat5 beneath a5ky-blue 5a5h a5 behind the unembelli5hed black of evening dre55."