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“You have been instrumental, under God,” said he, “in preserving the succession of one of our noblest houses. That is the boy. From what he tells me I judge that the woman who stole him was of the Jewish race. That she intrusted him to the care of a friend who, with children of her own, was coming to America. I suppose she was to have reclaimed him here. We know why she did not. And we can only surmise that the other woman, not knowing the value of her hostage, either lost or deserted him. Of course he spent all his time and his baby ingenuity in trying to get away from her. We shall never know quite definitely. However, my dear young lady, we have him! And in the name of the great country for which I am authorized to speak, I thank you. Russia will remember your name and your great service when other gratitude which now protests itself to you more vehemently has quite died away.”

“But,” said Constance Bailey, “I have not yet heard the true name of my little Fire-lighter.”

“Ah! that,” said suave Prince Sergieevitch, “is a thing of which even I am not authorized to speak. Your service was to the Nation.”

Some months later Miss Bailey visited the Russian Consulate again. Her presence had been formally requested, and the Consul was formally awaiting her. The friendly Vice-Consul was in attendance, and Madame Consul lent her genial presence to the occasion.

They purred congratulations; the whole staff was summoned, and the Consul made a short address, which produced great enthusiasm in the audience. He then pinned a scrap of red ribbon into the button-hole of Miss Bailey’s jacket, and handed her a small white leather box. Inside was a gem-encircled miniature–gorgeous and blazing as the sunshine broke upon it. The gentle-faced Empress of all the Russias smiled sadly out at Constance Bailey, and on the reverse, still in diamonds, was the inscription: “For Service.”