'The master has sent his compliments,' he said, 'and would be glad to know----' He glanced at Suzanne. It was obvious that Lavendale's presence in the room embarrassed him. Then he was suddenly pushed on one side and back into the corridor. Mr. Kessner himself came quietly in and closed the door behind him. There was a queer little gleam in his eyes, but his manner was unruffled. He tried the handle of the door to be sure that it was closed. Then he turned towards Suzanne. 'Will a million dollars,' he asked, 'buy me back my pocket-book?' Lavendale drew it from his pocket and promptly handed it across. 'My dear Mr. Kessner,' he remonstrated, 'you are surely not serious! Miss de Freyne was just explaining her little escapade to me and I was coming in search of you.' Mr. Kessner took no notice of either of them for several moments. He ran through the contents of the pocket-book, then he slowly thrust it into his pocket. 'I shall have the pleasure,' he said, 'on Friday night? You will not forget--the Ritz at eight o'clock?' 'Charmed,' Lavendale murmured. 'Delighted,' Suzanne faltered. He made a little bow--an ugly, awkward bow--and left the room. There was nothing in his manner to indicate what his sensations were. Lavendale and Suzanne looked at one another. 'Was there anything very important there?' she asked. He laughed. 'Nothing from your point of view, but everything from mine,' he told her. 'There was a list of forty-two names of German-Americans, each giving a million dollars towards a specific purpose. There was a plan of a few remaining estates in a certain part of Brazil, still to be purchased to establish what at some seasonable juncture should be declared to be a German colony. Some slight trouble with the Government of Brazil, a German gunboat, and behold!--German South America and to Hell with the Monroe Doctrine! A very admirable scheme, only----' 'Only what?' 'I don't fancy that, thanks to you, those estates will ever come into the market,' he remarked dryly, 'not for a German purchaser, at any rate.' She glanced uneasily towards the door. 'Mr. Lavendale,' she said earnestly 'I am terrified!' 'Why?' 'I am afraid of Mr. Kessner,' she confessed. 'He took it much too quietly.' Lavendale shrugged his shoulders. 'A man of his temperament,' he said, 'seldom wastes his time or his emotions. He was playing for a great stake which he knows now that he will lose. At the same time, he has lost purely through accident.' She suddenly smiled. 'I wonder,' she exclaimed, 'whether he really expects us to dine with him at the Ritz on Friday night!' 'We'll go and see, at any rate,' Lavendale declared. CHAPTER VI THE MACHINATIONS OF MR. COURLANDER Lavendale glanced at his thin gold watch and replaced it in his waistcoat pocket. 'Three minutes past eight,' he remarked. 'Half a dozen pairs of gloves for me, I think. Shall I go in and see about a table or would you rather dine somewhere else?'