“I have,” he answered, with unpleasant meaning in his tone, “but we are not out of here yet.” “You cannot frighten me,” she assured him. “Of course, you are a man--of a sort--and I am a woman, but I do not fancy that you would find, if it came to force, that you would have much of an advantage. However, we are wandering from the point. I claim an equal right with you to see anything which you may discover in Mr. Orden’s papers. I might, indeed, if I chose, claim a prior right.” “Indeed?” he answered, with an ugly scowl on his face. “Mr. Julian Orden is by way of being a particular friend, eh?” “As a matter of fact,” Catherine told him, “we are engaged to be married. It isn’t a serious engagement. It was entered into by him in a most chivalrous manner, to save me from the consequences of a very clumsy attempt on my part to get back that packet. But there it is. Every one down at his home believes at the present moment that we are engaged and that I have come up to London to see our Ambassador.” “If you are engaged,” Fenn sneered, “why hasn’t he told you more of his secrets?” “Secrets!” she repeated, a little scornfully. “I shouldn’t think he has any. I should imagine his daily life could be investigated without the least fear.” “You’d imagine wrong, then.” “But how interesting! You excite my curiosity. And must you continue to hold my wrist?” “Let me pull down the top of this desk, then.” “No!” “Why not?” “I intend to examine those papers.” With a quick movement he gained a momentary advantage and shut the desk down. The key, however, disturbed by the jerk, fell on to the carpet, and Catherine possessed herself of it. She sprang lightly back from him and pressed the bell. “D----n you, what are you going to do now?” he demanded. “You will see,” she replied. “Don’t come any nearer, or you may find that I can be unpleasant.” He shrugged his shoulders and waited. She turned towards the servant who presently appeared. “Robert,” she said, “will you telephone for me?” “Certainly, madam,” the man answered. “Telephone to 1884 Westminster. Say that you are speaking for Miss Abbeway, and ask Mr. Furley, Mr. Cross, or whoever is there, to come at once to this address.” “Look here, there’s no sense in that,” Fenn interrupted. “Will you do as I ask, please, Robert?” she persisted. The man bowed and left the room. Fenn strode sulkily back to the desk. “Very well, then,” he conceded, “I give in. Give me the key, and I’ll show you the letter.” “You intend to keep your word?” “I do,” he assured her. She held out the key. He took it, opened the desk, searched amongst the little pile of papers, drew out the half-sheet of notepaper, and handed it to her. “There you are,” he said, “although if you are really engaged to marry Mr. Julian Orden,” he added, with disagreeable emphasis, “I am surprised that he should have kept such a secret from you.”