gins at once to threaten me."

"What danger?"

"It will come from a country with which your country will be allied.
And I shall be arrested here as a _German_ spy, and I shall be sent
back to the country which I am supposed to have betrayed. And there
nothing in the world could save me."

"You mean--court-martial?"

"A brief one, Garry. And then the end."

"Death?"

She nodded.

After a few moments she moved toward the door. He went with her,
picking up his hat.

"I can't let you go with me," she said with a faint smile.

"Why not?"

"You are involved sufficiently already."

"What do I care for----"

"Hush, Garry. Do you wish to displease me?"

"No, but I----"

"Please! Call me a taxicab. I wish to go back alone."

In spite of argument she remained smilingly firm. Finally he rang up a
taxi for her. When it signalled he walked down stairs, through the dim
hall and out to the grilled gateway beside her.

"Good-bye," she said, giving her hand. He detained it:

"I can't bear to have you go alone----"

"I'm perfectly safe, mon ami. I've had a delightful time at your
party--really I have. This affair of the letter does not spoil it. I'm
accustomed to similar episodes. So now, good-night."

"Am I to see you again soon?"

"Soon? Ah, I can't tell you that, Garry."

"When it is convenient then?"

"Yes."

"And will you telephone me on your safe arrival home to-night?"

She laughed:

"If you wish. You're so sweet to me, Garry. You always have been.
Don't worry about me. I am not in the least apprehensive. You see I'm
rather a clever girl, and I know something about the Boche."

"You had your letter stolen."

"Only half of it!" she retorted gaily. "She is a gallant little thing,
your friend Dulcie. Please give her my love. As for your other
friends, they were amusing.... Mr. Mandel spoke to me about an
engagement."

"Why don't you consider it? Corot Mandel is the most important
producer in New York."

"Is he, really? Well, if I'm not interfered with perhaps I shall go to
call on Mr. Mandel." She began to laugh mischievously to herself:
"There was one man there who never gave me a moment's peace until I
promised to lunch with him at the Ritz."

"Who the devil----"

"Mr. Westmore," she said demurely.

"Oh, Jim Westmore! Well, Thessa, he's a corker. He's really a
splendid fellow, but look out for him! He's also a philanderer."

"Oh, dear. I thought he was just a sculptor and a rather stren