“In Paris precisely,” he confirmed, boastfully. “I would have placed you, if I had thought about the possibility of your having been in Paris,” Ruth explained. “Ah! Why should I not have been there? A Norwegian gentleman, shipwrecked from a vessel torpedoed by the horrid Huns!” He laughed, self-flatteringly, and squeezed Ruth tighter. “A kiss, _Liebchen_! I swear, if you are a loyal girl, surely you’ll say I deserve a kiss!” He bent his head to take his reward; and Ruth, unable fully to oppose him, contented herself with turning her cheek, avoiding touch of his lips upon hers. It satisfied him, or he was in such excellent humor with himself that he let it content him for the moment. The loathing which his embrace stirred within her and the helpless fury for repulse of him called clear images from Ruth’s subconsciousness. “About two weeks ago--” she began. “A week ago Thursday, _Liebchen_.” “You brought a child for clothing to the relief rooms where I was working. I waited upon you.” “And following your excellent explanation of your wonderful work, _Liebchen_, I gave you--” He halted to permit her to recount his generosity. “Two hundred francs, Herr Baron.” “Ah! You do recollect. That deserves a kiss from me!” he cried, as though she had given the other. Accordingly, he rewarded her as before. “You remember the next time?” “It was not there,” Ruth said vaguely. “It was upon the street.” “Quite so. The Boulevard Madeleine. There was a widow--a refugee--who halted you----” Ruth remembered and took up the account. “She stopped me to try to sell a bracelet, a family treasure----” “Which you admired, I saw, _Liebchen_.” “It was beautiful, but quite beyond my means to buy--at any fair price for the poor woman,” Ruth explained. “So I purchased it!” He went into a pocket and produced the bracelet. “Put it on, _Liebchen_!” he bid, himself slipping it over her hand. “Now another kiss for that!” He took it. “I did not know you were honoring me with your attentions all that time, Herr Baron.” “Oh, no trouble, _Liebchen_; a pleasure, I assure you. Besides, with more than your prettiness you piqued curiosity. You see, I received word in Paris when I am there before--a few months ago--that we can confidently employ one who will appear as Cynthia Gail. The word came from Chicago, I may tell you, quite roundabout and with some difficulty. Before we learn more about you--well, Mecklen took it upon himself to do you a little turn, it seems.” Ruth merely nodded, waiting. “Then a correction arrives from America, laying bare an extraordinary circumstance, _Liebchen_. Our people in Chicago sent us in January one Mathilde Igel, and now they have ascertained beyond any possible doubt that two days before they dispatched Mathilde to Paris, she has been interned in America. Who, then, have our Chicago people sent to us and advised us to employ--who is this Cynthia Gail? You would not need to be pretty to pique curiosity now, would you, _Liebchen_?”