He gave no sign, made no answer. Some question from across the table, with reference to the action of one of his country’s Ministers, was referred to him. He replied to it and drifted quite naturally into a general conversation. Without any evident effort, he seemed to desire to bring his tete-a-tete with Catherine to a close. She showed no sign of disappointment; indeed she fell into his humour and made vigorous efforts to attack the subject of Y.M.C.A. huts with her neighbour on the right. The rest of the meal passed in this manner, and it was not until they met, an hour later, in the Princess’ famous reception room, that they exchanged more than a casual word. The Princess liked to entertain her guests in a fashion of her own. The long apartment, with its many recesses and deep windows, an apartment which took up the whole of one side of the large house, had all the dignity and even splendour of a drawing-room, and yet, with its little palm court, its cosy divans, its bridge tables and roulette board, encouraged an air of freedom which made it eminently habitable. “I wonder, Baron,” she asked, “what time you are leaving, and whether I could rely upon your escort to the Lawsons’ dance? Don’t hesitate to say if you have an engagement, as it only means my telephoning to some friends.” “I am entirely at your service, Countess,” he answered promptly. “As a matter of fact, I have already promised to appear there myself for an hour.” “You would like to play bridge now, perhaps?” she asked. “The Princess was kind enough to invite me,” he replied, “but I ventured to excuse myself. I saw that the numbers were even without me, and I hoped for a little more conversation with you.” They seated themselves in an exceedingly comfortable corner. A footman brought them coffee, and a butler offered strange liqueurs. Catherine leaned back with a little sigh of relief. “Every one calls this room of my aunt’s the hotel lounge,” she remarked. “Personally, I love it.” “To me, also, it is the ideal apartment,” he confessed. “Here we are alone, and I may ask you a question which was on my lips when we had tea together at the Carlton, and which, but for our environment, I should certainly have asked you at dinner time.” “You may ask me anything,” she assured him, with a little smile. “I am feeling happy and loquacious. Don’t tempt me to talk, or I shall give away all my life’s secrets.” “I will only ask you for one just now,” he promised. “Is it true that you have to-day had some disagreement with--shall I say a small congress of men who have their meetings down at Westminster, and with whom you have been in close touch for some time?” Her start was unmistakable. “How on earth do you know anything about that?” He shrugged his shoulders. “These are the days,” he said, “when, if one is to succeed in my profession, one must know everything.”