“Let me speak first as a private individual,” he begged, “and express my well-studied opinion that war between our two countries would be simply race suicide, an indescribable and an abominable crime. Then I will remember what I represent over here, and I will venture to add in my ambassadorial capacity that I come with an absolute and heartfelt mandate of peace. My task over here is to secure and ensure it.” Caroline flashed a warning glance at her husband. “How nice of you to be so frank, Prince!” she said. “The Duke sometimes forgets, in the pursuit of his hobby, that a private dinner table is not a platform. I insist upon it that we discuss something of more genuine interest.” “There isn't a more vital subject in the world,” the Duke declared, resigning himself, however, to silence. “We will speak,” the Ambassador suggested, “of the way in which our host brought down those tall pheasants.” “You will tell me, perhaps,” Seaman suggested to the lady to his right, “how you English women have been able to secure for yourselves so much more liberty than our German wives enjoy?” “Later on,” Stephanie whispered to her host, with a little tremble in her voice, “I have a surprise for you.” After dinner, Dominey's guests passed naturally enough to the relaxations which each preferred. There were two bridge tables, Terniloff and the Cabinet Minister played billiards, and Seaman, with a touch which amazed every one, drew strange music from the yellow keys of the old-fashioned grand piano in the drawing-room. Stephanie and her host made a slow progress through the hall and picture gallery. For some time their conversation was engaged solely with the objects to which Dominey drew his companion's attention. When they had passed out of possible hearing, however, of any of the other guests, Stephanie's fingers tightened upon her companion's arm. “I wish to speak to you alone,” she said, “without the possibility of any one overhearing.” Dominey hesitated and looked behind. “Your guests are well occupied,” she continued a little impatiently, “and in any case I am one of them. I claim your attention.” Dominey threw open the door of the library and turned on a couple of the electric lights. She made her way to the great open fireplace, on which a log was burning, looked down into the shadows of the room and back again at her host's face. “For one moment,” she begged, “turn on all the lights. I wish to be sure that we are alone.” Dominey did as he was bidden. The furthermost corners of the room, with its many wings of book-filled shelves, were illuminated. She nodded. “Now turn them all out again except this one,” she directed, “and wheel me up an easy-chair. No, I choose this settee. Please seat yourself by my side.” “Is this going to be serious?” he asked, with some slight disquietude. “Serious but wonderful,” she murmured, lifting her eyes to his. “Will you please listen to me, Leopold?”