n fact, it
is inexplicable."

She took up the newspaper and glanced at the report. Then, "You
are sure, I suppose, that this does refer to Von Behrling? He is
quite unidentified, you see."

"There is no doubt about it," Bellamy declared. "I have been to
the Mortuary. It is certainly he. All our work has been in
vain--just as I thought, too, that we had made a splendid success of
it."

She looked at him compassionately.

"It is hard lines, dear," she admitted. "You are tired, too. You
look as though you had been up all night."

"Yes, I am tired," he answered, sinking into a chair. "I am worse
than tired. This has been the grossest failure of my career, and I
am afraid that it is the end of everything. I have lost twenty
thousand pounds of Secret Service money; I have lost the one chance
which might have saved England. They will never trust me again."

"You did your best," she said, coming over and sitting on the arm
of his chair. "You did your best, David."

She laid her hands upon his forehead, her cheek against his--smooth
and cold--exquisitely refreshing it seemed to his jaded nerves.

"Ah, Louise!" he murmured, "life is getting a little too strenuous.
Perhaps we have given too much of it up to others. What do you
think?"

She shook her head.

"Dear, I have felt like that sometimes, yet what can we do? Could
we be happy, you and I, in exile, if the things which we dread were
coming to pass? Could I go away and hide while my countrymen were
being butchered out of existence?-- And you--you are not the sort
of man to be content with an ignoble peace. No, it isn't possible.
Our work may not be over yet--"

There was a knock at the door, and Annette entered with many
apologies.

"Mademoiselle," she explained, "a thousand pardons, and to Monsieur
also, but there is a gentleman here who says that his business is
of the most urgent importance, and that he must see you at once. I
have done all that I can, but he will not go away. He knows that
Monsieur Bellamy is here, too," she added, turning to him, "and
he says his business has to do with Monsieur as well as Mademoiselle."

Bellamy almost snatched the card from the girl's fingers. He read
out the name in blank amazement.

"Baron de Streuss!"

There was a moment's silence. Louise and he exchanged wondering
glances.

"What can this mean?" she asked hoarsely.

"Heaven knows!" he answered. "Let us see him together. After
all--aft