The stockbroker left the room. Lichtenbach did not even rise from his seat to accompany him to the door. He was thinking. From Venice a letter had reached him which, on the one hand, caused him great satisfaction, and, on the other, brought him a certain amount of uneasiness. Sophia Grodsko had written to him: “The war powder is a triumphant success. Experiments made at Spezzia and Trieste have given prodigious results with marine cannons. Plates of Siemens steel a foot thick are pierced like sheets of paper. We have received two million francs, the rest will come afterwards. The affair is big with magnificent results. Things are not progressing so well with the commerce powder. Hans has been at work for the last fortnight at Swalbach with Prunier, from Zurich. He has been disappointed. All the attempts have been unsatisfactory. They have manipulated the product in different manners, but no result has been obtained. The explosive is worth no more than dynamite. True it is not so dear, but we are far from what we hoped, and from what must actually be the case. There must be some secret or other in the fabrication of the powder unknown to us. Hans is trying to find it, and has not abandoned all hopes of doing so. But, up to the present, fiasco. Don’t be discouraged, but thank me for telling you the exact truth. Agostini sends you his best wishes, and informs you that you will shortly receive your brevet of baron.” Lichtenbach growled. “Baron! That will be of some use to me, indeed, if this affair fails.” Rising, he gave a gesture of defiance. “It will not fail! Hans is a skilful chemist. He will find out the secret. Besides, if need be I will retrace my steps. They will not catch me so easily, altogether unprepared.” He smiled. His daughter entered the room. She was no longer the little schoolgirl, dressed in the blue convent robe, but an elegant and graceful Parisienne. The banker looked at her with considerable satisfaction. “Are you ready?” “Yes, father. It was agreed we should start at four o’clock.” “And where are you taking me?” “To the Charity Bazaar in favour of the Alsace-Lorraine orphans. You must come.” “I might have sent a cheque.” “But I must be there. Madame Sainte-Alix has charge of a stall, along with several of my old school companions. I promised to be there.” “Well, let us start.”