"Very much sooner," he admitted. "I came in for some unexpected leave, which I haven't the slightest intention of spending abroad, so here I am." "Not, apparently, in love with Berlin," the lady, whose name was Mrs. Paston Benedek, remarked. Norgate's air of complete candour was very well assumed. "I shall never be a success as a diplomatist," he confessed. "When I dislike a place or a person, every one knows it. I hated Berlin. I hate the thought of going back again." The woman by his side smiled enigmatically. "Perhaps," she murmured, "you may get an exchange." "Perhaps," Norgate assented. "Meanwhile, even a month away from London seems to have brought a fresh set of people here. Who is the tall, thin young man with the sunburnt face? He seems familiar, somehow, but I can't place him." "He is a sailor," she told him. "Captain Baring his name is." "Friend of yours?" She looked at him sidewise. "Why do you ask?" "Jealousy," Norgate sighed, "makes one observant. You were lunching with him in the Carlton Grill. You came in with him to the club this afternoon." "Sherlock Holmes!" she murmured. "There are other men in the club with whom I lunch--even dine." Norgate glanced across the room. Baring was playing bridge at a table close at hand, but his attention seemed to be abstracted. He looked often towards where Mrs. Benedek sat. There was a restlessness about his manner scarcely in keeping with the rest of his appearance. "One misses a great deal," Norgate regretted, "through being only an occasional visitor here." "As, for instance?" "The privilege of being one of those fortunate few." She laughed at him. Her eyes were full of challenge. She leaned a little closer and whispered in his ear: "There is still a vacant place." "For to-night or to-morrow?" he asked eagerly. "For to-morrow," she replied. "You may telephone--3702 Mayfair--at ten o'clock." He scribbled down the number. Then he put his pocket-book away with a sigh. "I'm afraid you are treating that poor sailor-man badly," he declared. "Sometimes," she confided, "he bores me. He is so very much in earnest. Tell me about Berlin and your work there?" "I didn't take to Germany," Norgate confessed, "and Germany didn't take to me. Between ourselves--I shouldn't like another soul in the club to know it--I think it is very doubtful if I go back there." "That little _contretemps_ with the Prince," she murmured under her breath. He stiffened at once. "But how do you know of it?" She bit her lip. For a moment a frown of annoyance clouded her face. She had said more than she intended. "I have correspondents in Berlin," she explained. "They tell me of everything. I have a friend, in fact, who was in the restaurant that night." "What a coincidence!" he exclaimed. She nodded and selected a fresh cigarette.