“The baron will spend this evening at the club,” I was informed. “He will return, according to his habit, promptly at twelve. You will visit his house this evening, paying a call upon Nevshka. You will contrive to set back the clock so that his home coming will be in the nature of a surprise to her. The hour will be so late that she, knowing her father’s strictness, will contrive to get you out of the house without his seeing you. That is your opportunity! You must slip from the salon into the rear hall—but do not leave the house. And if, young man, with such an opportunity, you cannot discover where these papers are hidden _and secure them_, you are unworthy of the trust that your government has placed in you.” I nodded my comprehension. In other words I was to take advantage of Nevshka’s friendship in order to steal from her father—I was to perform an act from which no gentleman could help shrinking. And I was going to do it with no more qualms of conscience than, in time of war, I should have felt about stealing from an enemy general the plan of an attack. For countries are always at war—diplomatically. There is always a conflict between the foreign ambitions of governments; always an attempt on the part of each country to gain its own ends by fair means or foul. Every man engaged in diplomatic work knows this to be true. And he will serve his government without scruple, for well he knows that some seemingly dishonorable act of his may be the means of averting that actual warfare which is only the forlorn hope that governments resort to when diplomatic means of mastery have failed. So I undertook my mission with no hesitation, rather with a thrill of eagerness. I pretended to be violently interested in Nevshka (no difficult task, that) and time sped by so merrily that even had I not turned back the hands of the clock, I doubt if the lateness of the hour would have seriously concerned either of us. Oh, yes, my tutor—who, as you of course have guessed by now, was no mere tutor—had analyzed the situation correctly. As the baron was heard at the door, I drew out my watch. “Nevshka, your clock is slow. It is already midnight.” Nevshka started. “Come!” she exclaimed. “Father must not see you. He would be furious at your being here at this hour.” In a panic she glanced about the salon. “Go out that way.” And she pointed to a door at the rear, one that opened on a dimly lit hallway. I went. I heard the baron express his surprise that Nevshka was still awake. I heard her lie—beautifully, I assure you. And I remained hidden while the baron worked in his library for a while; hardly daring to breathe until I heard him go up the stairs to his bedroom.