“I will come,” she said. For an instant he considered at what hotel there was least danger of his being recognized. “_Isvochtchik_, to the Hotel Metropole--straight!” he ordered. Ten minutes later they were standing in the hotel lobby, her arm in his, two porters industriously brushing the snow off their long fur coats, and a gold-braided major-domo before them. “I suppose,” said Drexel, “you have a room for myself and wife?” “Certainly, sir,” said the bowing major-domo. “Ah--say two rooms, with a connecting door?” “Certainly. I will show you.” Drexel followed, and the young woman, with perfect poise, with a grace that made him marvel, swept up the stairway at his side. The two rooms were large, each with a great white-tiled stove filling one corner from floor to ceiling, with long windows looking out upon the street--and with, between the two, the required door. Were the rooms satisfactory? Entirely so. Would madame or monsieur desire anything for their comfort? If they did they would order it later. When the major-domo and the porter who had brought up Drexel’s suit-case were gone, and Drexel was left standing alone in the larger room with that brilliantly beautiful creature, he was swept with a desire that this marriage game they played--a game involving life and death, and far, far more, for aught he knew--were not a game at all, but a reality. But he mastered himself. It was only a game--and he had to see the game through to the end. “This room will be yours,” said he. “Very well,” said she. He stepped to the connecting door and changed the key to her side of the lock. She thanked him with a look. “Perhaps you would like something to eat?” he suggested. “Nothing.” He wanted to remain and talk with her, yet the situation was such that the suggestion had to come from her. He hesitated near the door, waiting--but the invitation did not come. “I shall put out my light,” he said, “but I shall not go to bed. If you need me, just call. Good-night.” Suddenly she came across the room to him, her hand outstretched, her dark face glowing. “Forgive me if I seem unthankful,” she said in her rich low voice. “I am not. And forgive me because I can say so little. Perhaps the time will come when I can tell you all, and thank you as you deserve. But please understand that I understand, and that I appreciate, what you have done for me, and the danger you are now incurring in being here.” As he looked into her glowing eyes, his words burst out of their own accord. “I would rather be here than any place else in the world!” She flushed slightly under his gaze. “Good-night--” and she pressed his hand. “Good-night,” said he. He stepped into the other room, and the next moment the key turned in the lock. CHAPTER III A LONG JOURNEY THAT WAS SOON ENDED