urt at what he had said that Browne hastened to set
himself right with her.

"Believe me, I am not doubting her friendship," he said, "only her
discretion. I should never forgive myself if I thought I had put any
unjust thoughts against her in your mind. But the fact remains that,
not only for your father's safety, but also for our own, it is most
essential that no suspicion as to what we are about to do should get
abroad."

"You surely do not think that Madame Bernstein would talk about the
matter to strangers?" said Katherine, a little indignantly. "You have
not been acquainted with her very long, but I think, at least, you
ought to know her well enough to feel sure she would not do that."

Browne tried to reassure her on this point, but it was some time before
she was mollified. To change the subject, he spoke of Herr Sauber and
of the interest he was taking in the matter.

"I see it all," she said; "it was he who instilled these suspicions
into your mind. It was unkind of him to do so; and not only that, but
unjust. Like yourself, he has never been altogether friendly to her."

Browne found himself placed in somewhat of a dilemma. It was certainly
true that the old man _had_ added fresh fuel to his suspicions; yet he
had to remember that his dislike for the lady extended farther back,
even as far as his first meeting with her at Merok. Therefore, while
in justice to himself he had the right to incriminate the old man, he
had no desire to confess that he had himself been a doubter from the
first. Whether she could read what was passing in his mind or not I
cannot say, but she was silent for a few minutes. Then, looking up at
him with troubled eyes, she said, "Forgive me; I would not for all the
world have you think that I have the least doubt of you. You have been
so good to me that I should be worse than ungrateful if I were to do
that. Will you make a bargain with me?"

"Before I promise I must know what that bargain is," he said, with a
smile. "You have tried to make bargains with me before to which I
could not agree."

"This is a very simple one," she said. "I want you to promise me, that
you will never tell me anything of what you are going to do in this
matter, that I cannot tell Madame Bernstein. Cannot you see, dear,
what I mean when I ask that? She is my friend, and she has taken care
of me for so many, many years, that I should be indeed a traitor to
her, if, while she was so anxious