“One moment, please.” Doris had risen and faced him across the hearth, a new fire of resolution in her eyes. To Rizzio, the lover of beauty, she was a mockery of lost happiness. She was Diana, not the huntress but the hunted. “You have told me what Cyril Hammersley is. Now if you please I would like to know what _you_ are!” He paused a moment and then with a step toward her said gently: “I think my interests should be fairly obvious. I am acting for the English Government.” “I have only your word for it. Have you any papers that would prove it--in your card-case, for instance?” He started back, his fingers instinctively reaching upward. Then he shrugged and laughed. “You are surely the most amazing person. Unfortunately I have no documents. I am only doing my duty as a private citizen--a loyal resident of the Empire.” “But not a Briton. Neither am I. We meet on equal terms.” “Then you refuse me--definitely, finally.” “Yes, I must.” “I beg that you will consider carefully the alternatives. If you give me the papers--silence on my part--safety for Hammersley. If you refuse to give them up----” he paused. “Then what will you do?” she defied him. “It would be the most terrible moment of my life--but I will denounce him--here tonight--tomorrow in London. Those papers must not reach Germany--even if I have to denounce you, too.” “And if I promise that the papers will not reach Germany?” He hesitated a moment. “There is too much at stake. I can’t take the risk. No woman can be trusted----” “Not even the woman John Rizzio would have made his wife?” He moved his shoulders expressively. Her youth and cleverness were bewildering him. “No, that will not do,” he said in desperation. “You must give me the papers.” “I will not. You shall have to take them from me.” He leaned toward her along the mantel aware of her dominant loveliness. “You would not drive me to that!” “Yes. It _is_ a challenge. I offer it. I will fight you, and I am strong. I have a voice and I will raise an outcry. They will come and I will tell them. Then you can denounce me? Will you dare?” He came toward her while she fled around the davenport, eluding him with ease. She was swifter of foot than he. He stopped a moment near the gun-rack to plead. She kept the huge oak lounge between them and listened by the fire. Something she saw in his eyes decided her, for as he came forward to leap over the davenport she threw something yellow toward him. He gave a gasp of relief, picked the object up and made a cry of dismay. “The cover! I must have the papers,” he cried, coming forward again. By this time the girl was standing upright, a poker in one hand, the thin cigarette papers cramped in the fingers of the other, over the open fire. Rizzio paused in the very act of leaping. “Not that,” he whispered hoarsely, “for God’s sake--not that.” [Illustration: “‘Not that,’ he whispered hoarsely, ‘for God’s sake--not that.’”]