“This evening,” she went on, “I received a visit from a man whom I took at first to be an insignificant member of the German bourgeoisie. I learnt something of his true position later. He came to me to explain that Leopold was engaged in this country on secret service, that he was passing under the name which he gave me,--Sir Everard Dominey, an English baronet, long lost in Africa. You know of this?” “I know that to-night I am receiving a visit from Sir Everard Dominey.” “He is to work under your auspices?” “By no means,” the Prince rejoined warmly. “I am not favourably inclined towards this network of espionage. The school of diplomacy in which I have been brought up tries to work without such ignoble means.” “One realises that,” she said. “Leopold is coming, however, to-night, to pay his respects to you.” “He is waiting for me now in my study,” the Ambassador asserted. “You will do me the service of conveying to him a message from me,” she continued. “This man Seaman pointed out to me the unwisdom of any association between myself and Leopold, under present conditions. I listened to all that he had to say. I reserved my decision. I have now considered the matter. I will compromise with necessity. I will be content with the acquaintance of Sir Everard Dominey, but that I will have.” “For myself,” the Ambassador reflected, “I do not even know what Von Ragastein's mission over here is, but if in Berlin they decide that, for the more complete preservation of his incognito, association between you and him is undesirable--” She laid her fingers upon his arm. “Stop!” she ordered. “I am not of Berlin. I am not a German. I am not even an Austrian. I am Hungarian, and though I am willing to study your interests, I am not willing to place them before my own life. I make terms, but I do not surrender. Those terms I will discuss with Leopold. Ah, be kind to me!” she went on, with a sudden change of voice. “Since these few minutes at midday I have lived in a dream. Only one thing can quiet me. I must speak to him. I must decide with him what I will do. You will help?” “An acquaintance between you and Sir Everard Dominey,” he admitted, “is certainly a perfectly natural thing.” “Look at me,” she begged. He turned and looked into her face. Underneath her beautiful eyes were dark lines; there was something pitiful about the curve of her mouth. He remembered that although she had carried herself throughout the evening with all the dignity which was second nature to her, he had overheard more than one sympathetic comment upon her appearance. “I can see that you are suffering,” he remarked kindly.