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With a bachelor's curiosity he was eager to know who was my fair correspondent. But I refused to satisfy him. Suffice it to say that that same night I went alone to a house on the outskirts of Sofia, and there met, at her urgent request, Marie Balesco.
I showed them both the strange mark upon my palm, a brand which I suppose I shall bear to my dying day. "Then you really owe your life to that girl Balesco, Mr. Hargreave?" she said, raising her fine dark eyes to mine. "I certainly do," I replied.
Quite unconsciously I had, it seemed, become an especial favorite of the silent, watchful old Konstantinos Vassos. Fearing lest I, in my innocence, should fall a victim with His Excellency being so often his companion he had, with the assistance of the pretty Marie Balesco, contrived to impress upon my palm the secret sign of the conspirators.
Mademoiselle Balesco was her name, and I found her inexpressibly charming. She spoke French perfectly, and English quite well. She had been at school in England, she said at Scarborough. Her home was at Galatz, in Roumania. We had several dances, and afterwards I took her down to supper.
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