"We have met in Rome, I think, and in Paris," the Count reminded him. "If I might beg for the favour of a few moments' conversation with you." The two men strolled away together. The Count plunged at once into the middle of things. "It is you, sir, I believe, whom I have to thank for the abrupt departure of Mademoiselle Sonia from New York?" "Quite true," Lutchester admitted. "Under different circumstances," the Count proceeded, "I might regard such interference in my affairs in a different manner. Here, of course, that is impossible. I speak to you out of regard for the lady in question. You appear in some mysterious manner to have discovered the fact that she was in the habit of bringing entirely unimportant and non-political messages from dear friends in France." "Mademoiselle Sonia," Lutchester said calmly, "had for a brief space of time forgotten herself. She was engaged in carrying out espionage work on your behalf. I believe I may say that she will do so no more." The Count was a man of medium height, thin, with complexion absolutely colourless, and deep-set, tired eyes. At this moment, however, he seemed endowed with the spirit of a new virility. The cane which he grasped might have been a dagger. His smooth tones nursed a threat. "Mr. Lutchester," he declared, "if harm should come to her through your information, I swear to God that you shall pay!" Lutchester's manner was mild and unprovocative. "Count," he replied, "we make no war upon women. Sonia has repented, and the knowledge which I have of her misdeeds will be shared by no one. She has gone back to her country to work for the Red Cross there. So far as I am concerned, that is the end." The two men walked a few steps further in unbroken silence. Then the Count raised his hat. "Mr. Lutchester," he said, "yours is the reply of an honourable enemy. I might have trusted you, but Sonia is half of my life. I offer you my thanks." He strolled away, and Lutchester rejoined his young friend. "The lion and the lamb seem to have parted safely!" the latter exclaimed. "Now sit by my side and I will show you interesting things. Those four irreproachable young men over there in tennis flannels are all from the German Embassy. The two elder ones behind are Austrians. All those women are the wives of Senators who sympathise with Germany. Their husbands look like it, don't they? To-day they have an addition to their ranks--the thin, elderly man there, whose clothes were evidently made in London. That's Senator Hastings. He is a personal friend of the President. Jove, what a beautiful girl with Mrs. Hastings!" "That," Lutchester told him, "is the young lady to whom you have just sent a card of invitation for to-night." "Then here's hoping that she comes," Philip Downing observed, finishing his glass of mint julep. "Is she a pal of yours?" "Yes, I know her," Lutchester admitted.