s not for Peter. He found her in the
music-room with several of the little Marconi missives spread out before
her, and she cut him dead. Peter, however, was a brave man, and skilled
at the game of bluff. So he stopped by her side and without any preamble
addressed her.

"Duchesse," he said, "you are a woman of perceptions. Which do you
believe, then, in your heart to be the more trustworthy--the Count von
Hern or I?"

She simply stared at him. He continued promptly.

"You have received your warning, I see."

"From whom?"

"From the Count von Hern. Why believe what he says? He may be a friend
of yours--he may be a dear friend--but in your heart you know that he is
both unscrupulous and selfish. Why accept his word and distrust me? I,
at least, am honest."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Honest?" she repeated. "Whose word have I for that save your own? And
what concern is it of mine if you possess every one of the bourgeois
qualities in the world? You are presuming, sir."

"My friend Sogrange will tell you that I am to be trusted," Peter
persisted.

"I see no reason why I should trouble myself about your personal
characteristics," she replied, coldly. "They do not interest me."

"On the contrary, Duchesse," Peter continued, fencing wildly, "you have
never in your life been more in need of any one's services than you are
of mine."

The conflict was uneven. The Duchesse was a nervous, highly strung
woman. The calm assurance of Peter's manner oppressed her with a sense
of his mastery. She sank back upon the couch from which she had arisen.

"I wish you would tell me what you mean," she said. "You have no right
to talk to me in this fashion. What have you to do with my affairs?"

"I have as much to do with them as the Count von Hem," Peter insisted,
boldly.

"I have known the Count von Hern," she answered, "for very many years.
You have been a shipboard acquaintance of mine for a few hours."

"If you have known the Count von Hern for many years," Peter asserted,
"you have found out by this time that he is an absolutely untrustworthy
person."

"Supposing he is," she said, "will you tell me what concern it is of
yours? Do you suppose for one moment that I am likely to discuss my
private affairs with a perfect stranger?"

"You have no private affairs," Peter declared, sternly. "They are the
affairs of a nation."

She glanced at him with a little shiver.

From that moment he felt that he was gaining ground.