The man was absent for several minutes. Before he returned Helène came in. Mr. Sabin greeted her with his usual courtesy and even more than his usual cordiality. "You are missing the best part of the morning with your Continental habits," she exclaimed brightly. "I have been out on the cliffs since half-past eight. The air is delightful." She threw off her hat, and going to the sideboard, helped herself to a cup of coffee. There was a becoming flush upon her cheeks--her hair was a little tossed by the wind. Mr. Sabin watched her curiously. "You have not, I suppose, seen a morning paper--or rather last night's paper?" he remarked. She shook her head. "A newspaper! You know that I never look at an English one," she answered. "You wanted to see me, Reynolds said. Is there any news?" "There is great news," he answered. "There is such news that by sunset to-day war will probably be declared between England and Germany!" The flush died out of her cheeks. She faced him pallid to the lips. "It is not possible!" she exclaimed. "So the whole world would have declared a week ago! As a matter of fact it is not so sudden as we imagine! The storm has been long brewing! It is we who have been blind. A little black spot of irritation has spread and deepened into a war-cloud." "This will affect us?" she asked. "For us," he answered, "it is a triumph. It is the end of our schemes, the climax of our desires. When Knigenstein came to me I knew that he was in earnest, but I never dreamed that the torch was so nearly kindled. I see now why he was so eager to make terms with me." "And you," she said, "you have their bond?" For a moment he looked thoughtful. "Not yet. I have their promise--the promise of the Emperor himself. But as yet my share of the bargain is incomplete. There must be no more delay. It must be finished now--at once. That telegram would never have been sent from Berlin but for their covenant with me. It would have been better, perhaps, had they waited a little time. But one cannot tell! The opportunity was too good to let slip." "How long will it be," she asked, "before your work is complete?" His face clouded over. In the greater triumph he had almost forgotten the minor difficulties of the present. He was a diplomatist and a schemer of European fame. He had planned great things, and had accomplished them. Success had been on his side so long that he might almost have been excused for declining to reckon failure amongst the possibilities. The difficulty which was before him now was as trifling as the uprooting of a hazel switch after the conquest of a forest of oaks. But none the less for the moment he was perplexed. It was hard, in the face of this need for urgent haste, to decide upon the next step. "My work," he said slowly, "must be accomplished at once. There is very little wanted. Yet that little, I must confess, troubles me." "You have not succeeded, then, in obtaining what you want from Lord Deringham?" "No."