much they would do for a woman's sake."

"You believe that?" he asked, in a low tone.

"I do, indeed. One reads love-stories--no, I do not mean romances,
but memoirs--memoirs of the French and Austrian Courts--memoirs,
even, written by Englishmen. Men were different a generation ago.
Honor was dear to them then, honor and position and wealth, and yet
there were many, very many then who were willing to give all these
things for the love of a woman.

"And do you think there are none now?" he whispered hoarsely.

"My friend," she answered, looking down at him, "I think that there
are very few."

She heard his breath come fast between his teeth, and she realized
his state of excitement.

"Mademoiselle Louise," he said, "my love for you has made me a
laughing-stock in the clubs of Vienna. I--the poverty-stricken,
who have nothing but a noble name, nothing to offer you--have dared
to show others what I think, have dared to place you in my heart
above all the women on earth."

"It is very nice of you," she murmured. "Why do you tell me this
now?"

"Why, indeed?" he answered. "What have I to hope for?"

She looked along the deck. Not a dozen yards away, two cigar ends
burned red through the gloom. She knew very well that those cigar
ends belonged to Streuss and his friend. She laughed softly and
once more she bent her head.

"How they watch you, those men!" she said. "Listen, my friend
Rudolph. Supposing their fears were true, supposing I were really
a spy, supposing I offered you wealth and with it whatever else
you might claim from me, for the secret which you carry to England!"

"How do you know that I am carrying a secret?" he asked hoarsely.

She laughed.

"My friend," she said, "with your two absurd companions shadowing
you all the time and glowering at me, how could one possibly doubt
it? The Baron Streuss is, I believe, the Chief of your Secret
Service Department, is he not? To me he seems the most obvious
policeman I ever saw dressed as a gentleman."

"You don't mean it!" he muttered. "You can't mean what you said
just now!"

She was silent for a few moments. Some one passing struck a match,
and she caught a glimpse of the white face of the man who sat by
her side--strained now and curiously intense.

"Supposing I did!"

"You must be mad!" he declared. "You must not talk to me like this,
Mademoiselle. I have no secret. It is your humor, I know, but it
is dangerous."

"There is