"Bernadine," she repeated. "All that you say is true; but when one fails with modern weapons, one changes the form of attack. Bernadine at heart is a savage." "The hate of such a man," de Grost remarked complacently, "is worth having. He has had his own way over here for years. He seems to have found the knack of living in a maze of intrigue and remaining untouchable. There were a dozen things before I came upon the scene which ought to have ruined him. Yet there never appeared to be anything to take hold of. The Criminal Investigation Department thought they had no chance. I remember Sir John Dory telling me in disgust that Bernadine was like one of those marvellous criminals one only reads about in fiction, who seem when they pass along the dangerous places to walk upon the air and leave no trace behind." "Before you came," she said, "he had never known a failure. Do you think that he is a man likely to forgive?" "I do not," de Grost answered grimly. "It is a battle, of course--a battle all the time. Yet, Violet, between you and me, if Bernadine were to go, half the savour of life for me would depart with him." Then there came a serious and wholly unexpected interruption. A man in dark, plain clothes, still wearing his overcoat and carrying a bowler hat, had been standing in the entrance of the restaurant for a moment or two, looking around the room as though in search of someone. At last he caught the eye of the Baron de Grost and came quickly towards him. "Charles," the Baron remarked, raising his eyebrows. "I wonder what he wants?" A sudden cloud had fallen upon their little feast. Violet watched the coming of her husband's servant and the reading of the note which he presented to his master with an anxiety which she could not wholly conceal. The Baron read the note twice, scrutinising a certain part of it closely with the aid of the monocle which he seldom used. Then he folded it up and placed it in the breast-pocket of his coat. "At what hour did you receive this, Charles?" he asked. "A messenger brought it in a taxi-cab about ten minutes ago, sir," the man replied. "He said that it was of the utmost importance, and that I had better try and find you." "A district messenger?" "A man in ordinary clothes, sir," Charles answered. "He looked like a porter in a warehouse, or something of that sort. I forgot to say that you were rung up on the telephone three times previously by Mr. Greening." The Baron nodded. "You can go," he said. "There is no reply." The man bowed and retired. De Grost called for his bill. "Is it anything serious?" Violet inquired. "No, not exactly serious," he answered. "I do not understand what has happened, but they have sent for me to go--well, where it was agreed that I should not go, except as a matter of urgent necessity." Violet knew better than to show any signs of disquietude. "Is it in London?" she asked.