She had recognized the intruder. And behind him she saw the square figure of Von Salzinger. But the latter meant nothing compared with the overwhelming personality of the man whom she, with thousands of others, had always regarded as the Kaiser's evil genius. Probably only once or twice in all her years she had seen this man in the flesh. But his pictures, they were known to everybody in the Fatherland, just as was the sinister reputation which dogged his name. Oh, yes, she knew him--and he was here, here in England, and had stolen in upon the privacy and obscurity of her home. What was his purpose? What? Something of it, at least, was plain to her from the moment of her recognition. It was the cruel hand of the Teutonic machinery reaching out towards her and--hers. Hers! The thought seared itself upon her brain. For herself she had no thought, but for her father she had become the veriest coward. The intruder displayed no interest or feeling at the manner of Vita's greeting. The lines of his face remained as stonily graven as chiselled marble. So cold was his regard that it even seemed incapable of interpreting her matchless beauty. "I am honored that the Princess recognizes me," he said, with a coldness that made his words an offence. "It will save explanation." Then he came towards her and stood before the fire confronting her. His height matched hers, which left him only of medium height for a man. "Your father has sold the secrets of Borga to--England. Now he has made good his escape to--England." Then without a sign, or gesture, or shadow of significance, he added: "So you see it was necessary to visit you here." It was well-nigh an impossibility ever to fathom the thought which lay behind this man's spoken word. There was a directness and simplicity about him which was utterly confounding. Then there was that dreadful frigidity of eye and attitude. Vita realized the impossibility at once. She made no attempt to guess at that which was in his mind. She contented herself with his admission of her father's escape. Without it terror alone would have remained. Instead, now, a wonderful calmness settled upon her. Maybe there was a touch of desperation in her calm. But there was still the assurance of her father's security, at least temporarily. She must watch. She must strive. If there were the smallest possibility she must baffle the purpose which had brought Frederick von Berger to her home. She waited.