Bates, her rather sour-faced maid, entered at the moment. She was a thin, angular person, very neat and prim, an excellent hairdresser, and a model of what a first-class maid should be. "Why, you don't look well this afternoon, madam," she said, glancing at her inquiringly. "No, Bates. It's the heat, I think. Will you bring me my smelling-salts?" she asked, as she sank into an arm-chair, a pretty figure in her pale-blue silk dressing-gown. The maid brought the large, silver-topped bottle across from the dressing-table and handed it to her mistress, who, after sniffing it, dismissed her. Then Jean sat for a full half-hour staring straight before her, looking down the long vista of her own tragic past. At midnight that letter would be safe in her hand. She consoled herself with the thought that, by acceding to Ansell's demand, as she had done, she would rid herself of him for ever. Her honour would be preserved, and Bracondale would never know. For the sake of her child, how could she confess to him? He joined her in the _petit salon_, where she gave him tea, and then, till dinner, he retired into the study to complete the despatches for which Martin was to call and take to Downing Street. At dinner she wore a pretty gown of cream lace, the waist and skirt being trimmed with broad, pale-blue satin ribbon, fashioned into big, flat bows; a Paris gown of the latest _mode_, which suited her admirably. It was rather high in the neck, and all the jewellery she wore was a single brooch. He also looked smart in his well-cut dinner jacket, with a light grey waistcoat and black tie; and as they sat opposite each other they chatted merrily. She had composed herself, and was now bearing herself very bravely. It was, however, a relief to her when, just as they had finished dessert, Jenner entered, saying: "Captain Martin is in the study, m'lord." "Oh, yes!" exclaimed the great statesman, rising at once. Then, turning to Jean, he said: "You'll excuse me, dearest, won't you? I must get Martin off. I've finished. Have you?" "Yes, dear," was her reply. "You go. I'm just going to see Enid for a little while." "After I've got Martin off I shall go along to Polivin's. I'm sorry to leave you this evening. But you won't mind, dear, will you?" "Not at all," was her prompt reply. "I know it is a duty." "I shall certainly not be back till one or two o'clock. They are a very late lot--the men who go there," he remarked. "I shall go to bed, so don't hurry, dear." "Good night, then," he said, crossing to her and bending till he touched her lips with his. Then he went along to the study, where the King's Messenger was waiting. "Halloa, Martin!" exclaimed his lordship, cheerily. "You're up to time--you always are. You're a marvel of punctuality." "I have to be, constantly catching trains, as I am," laughed the nonchalant traveller, as he unlocked his despatch-box and took the seven big sealed letters from the Foreign Secretary's hand.