is all."

Sogrange and Peter were shown into a modern bathroom by a servant who
was so anxious to wait upon them that they had difficulty in sending him
away. As soon as he was gone and the door closed behind him, Peter put
his foot against it and turned the key.

"You were going to write something to me in the car?"

Sogrange nodded.

"There was a moment," he admitted, "when I had a suspicion. It has
passed. This woman is no Roman. She sells the secrets of Bernadine as
she would sell herself. Nevertheless, it is well always to be prepared.
There were probably others beside Bernadine who had the entree here."

"The only suspicious circumstance which I have noticed," Peter remarked,
"is the number of men-servants. I have seen five already."

"It is only fair to remember," Sogrange reminded him, "that the Baroness
herself told us that there were no other save men-servants here and
that they were all spies. Without a master, I cannot see that they are
dangerous. One needs, however, to watch all the time."

"If you see anything suspicious," Peter said, "tap the table with your
forefinger. Personally, I will admit that I have had my doubts of the
Baroness, but on the whole I have come to the conclusion that they
were groundless. She is not the sort of woman to take up a vendetta,
especially an unprofitable one."

"She is an exceedingly dangerous person for an impressionable man like
myself," Sogrange remarked, arranging his tie.

The butler fetched them in a very few moments and showed them into a
pleasantly-furnished library, where he mixed cocktails for them from
a collection of bottles upon the sideboard. He was quite friendly and
inclined to be loquacious, although he spoke with a slight foreign
accent. The house belonged to an English gentleman from whom the honored
Count had taken it, furnished. They were two miles from a station and
a mile from the village. It was a lonely part, but there were always
people coming or going. With one's work one scarcely noticed it. He was
gratified that the gentlemen found his cocktails so excellent. Perhaps
he might be permitted the high honor of mixing them another? It was a
day, this, of deep sadness and gloom. One needed to drink something,
indeed, to forget the terrible thing which had happened. The Count had
been a good master, a little impatient sometimes, but kind-hearted. The
news had been a shock to them all.

Then, before they had expected her, the Baroness rea