y. "What does she want here?"

"The Baroness who? Peter demanded.

"The Baroness von Ratten. You must have heard of her--she is the friend
of Bernadine."

The two men had been out to lunch at the Ritz with Violet and had walked
across the Park home. Sogrange had been drawing on his gloves in the act
of starting out for a call at the Embassy.

"Does your wife know this woman?" he asked. Peter shook his head.

"I think not," he replied.

"Then she has come to see you," Sogrange continued. "What does it mean,
I wonder?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders.

"We shall know in a minute."

There was a knock at the door and his servant entered, bearing a card.

"This lady would like to see you, sir, on important business," he said.

"You can show her in here," Peter directed.

There was a very short delay. The two men had no time to exchange
a word. They heard the rustling of a woman's gown, and immediately
afterwards the perfume of violets seemed to fill the room.

"The Baroness von Ratten!" the butler announced.

The door was closed behind her. The servant had disappeared. Peter
advanced to meet his guest. She was a little above medium height, very
slim, with extraordinarily fair hair, colorless face, and strange eyes.
She was not strictly beautiful and yet there was no man upon whom her
presence was without its effect. Her voice was like her movements, slow
and with a grace of its own.

"You do not mind that I have come to see you?" she asked, raising her
eyes to Peter's. "I believe before I go that you will think terrible
things of me, but you must not begin before I have told you my errand.
It has been a great struggle with me before I made up my mind to come
here."

"Won't you sit down, Baroness?" Peter invited.

She saw Sogrange and hesitated.

"You are not alone," she said, softly. "I wish to speak with you alone."

"Permit me to present to you the Marquis de Sogrange," Peter begged. "He
is my oldest friend, Baroness. I think that whatever you might have to
say to me you might very well say before him."

"It is--of a private nature," she murmured.

"The Marquis and I have no secrets," Peter declared, "either political
or private."

She sat down and motioned Peter to take a place by her side upon the
sofa.

"You will forgive me if I am a little incoherent," she implored. "To-day
I have had a shock. You, too, have read the news? You must know that the
Count von Hern is dead--killed in the railway