te and lighted it with careful attention, then blew
the smoke sharply against the incandescent coal.

"Guy," said she, "I'm about to speak plainly; please don't
misunderstand; I'm simply a woman, now--a weak woman, perhaps; it will
be for you to judge me at the end." She smiled faintly.

"Not a weak woman, Madeline," he replied. "Your worst enemy would not
venture to call you that."

He wondered what more was coming, and at what directed. Her tone and
attitude and deprecation of self were new to him. He had never seen her
so; always she was the embodification of calm, self-reliance, poise,
never flustered, never disturbed. A weak woman! It was so absurd as to
be ridiculous, and she was aware of it. So what was the play with so
bald a notice to beware?

"No, no, Guy," said she. "You think it's a play, but it isn't. It's the
simple truth I'm about to tell you, and as truth I pray you take it."

"I'll take it as you wish it taken," he responded, more than ever
mystified.

She carefully laid her cigarette on the receiver, then arose and leaned
against the table, her hands behind her. He arose also, but she
declined the courtesy.

"Keep your seat," she said, "and don't be alarmed, I'm not preparing to
have you daggered or garroted. Entirely the reverse, Guy. I've decided
to offer terms: to capitulate; to throw the whole thing over; to betray
my mission and get out of the service forever. No, don't smile
incredulously, I mean it."

"Good Lord!" thought Harleston. "What is coming and where do we go?"
What he said, however, was:

"Wouldn't you be incredulous if our positions were reversed? Madeline
Spencer, the very Queen of the Service, betray her trust? Impossible!"

"Thank you, Guy," said she. "I've never yet been false to the hand that
paid me--and sometimes _I've_ paid dearly for keeping faith. Now for the
first time,--and the last time, too, for if successful the service will
know me no longer--I am ready and willing deliberately to make a failure
of my mission, if you will take that failure as conclusive evidence of
my good faith." She bent a bit forward and threw into her words and
tones and attitude every grace that she possessed. "Will you do it,
Guy?"

"When you ask that way," said Harleston, "who of mankind would refuse
you anything on earth."

She was alluring, wonderfully alluring. Time was, and that lately, when
he would have succumbed. But that time was no longer; beside the
raven-hair and dead-w