watched. I do not suppose that they will leave
us alone for a moment."

Bellamy took her hands in his, gripping them with almost unnatural
force.

"Louise," he declared earnestly, "you don't quite realize Von
Behrling's special weakness and your extraordinary strength. You
know that you are beautiful, I suppose, but you do not quite know
what that means. I have heard men talk about you till one would
think that they were children. You have something of that art or
guile--call it what you will--which passes from you through a
man's blood to his brain, and carries him indeed to Heaven--but
carries him there mad. Louise, don't be angry with me for what I
say. Remember that I know my sex. I know you, too, and I trust
you, but you can turn Von Behrling from a sane, honorable man into
what you will, without suffering even his lips to touch your
fingers. Von Behrling has that packet in his possession. When I
come to see you in London, I will bring you twenty thousand pounds
in Bank of England notes. With that Von Behrling might fancy
himself on his way to America--with you."

She closed her eyes for a moment. Perhaps she wished to keep hidden
from him the thoughts which chased one another through her brain.
He wished to make use of her--of her, the woman whom he loved.
Then she remembered that it was for her country and his, and the
anger passed.

"But I am afraid," she said softly, "that the moment they reach
London this document will be taken to the Austrian Embassy."

"Before then," Bellamy declared, "Von Behrling must not know whether
he is in heaven or upon earth. It will not be opened in London.
He can make up another packet to resemble precisely the one of which
he robbed Dorward. Oh! it is a difficult game, I know, but it is
worth playing. Remember, Louise, that we are not petty conspirators.
It is your country's very existence that is threatened. It is for
her sake as well as for England."

"I shall do my best," she murmured, looking into his face. "Oh,
you may be sure that I shall do my best!"

Bellamy raised her fingers to his lips and stole away. The electric
lamps had been turned out, but the morning was cloudy and the light
dim. Back in his own berth, he put his things together, ready to
leave at Munich. Then he rang for the porter.

"I am getting out at the next stop," he announced.

"Very good, Monsieur," the man answered.

Bellamy looked at him closely.

"You are a Frenchma