and Madame
played continually with unfailing deftness upon the two strings of
Rust's poor heart and of his intense curiosity, which she clearly
perceived though she did not know it to be professional. When the
heart swelled with stimulated emotion, and Rust began to show
inconvenient fondness, Madame would frown reproof and lead the
despatch-box into action. Very often she would carry her hand to that
pleasant spot where nestled the paper of so great international
importance, and she would speak of it and of the terrible
responsibilities which rested upon her as a secret _agent de police_.
"When I carry a document such as this," she would say, "one _pour
faire les Boches se crever_, it never leaves my bosom all the day and
rests under my pillow by night. Under my pillow, _mon ami_." She dwelt
upon that pillow, and raised in the mind of Rust a charming vision of
a white lace-edged surface upon which was spread out a lovely disorder
of red copper hair. She so worked upon him that his emotions and his
duties became inextricably mixed. Somehow he must secure that paper
and solve the baffling problem of the wonderful widow who appeared to
be French, and yet was not French. His brain by itself could not have
conceived of a means, but Madame assisted to stimulate its imagination
as she had done the beating of his heart. "It was wrong of you, _mon
ami_" she said, in gentle reproof, "to select a room upon the same
floor as mine, it was a proceeding bold and not a little indelicate,
which might have compromised my precious reputation had I not been
secure in the honour of my poor lost Captain Guilbert." Rust protested
that he had left the choice of rooms entirely to the lady of the
bureau, but Madame's smile showed that she was wholly sceptical. "I
speak frankly to you," said she, "so that there may be no longer in
your mind any thought that I am a woman of light conduct. I have come
here, driven by your sad pleadings, to give you of my companionship,
and my heart would be desolated if I thought that you still misjudged
me." The beautiful voice shook, and I do not doubt that the violet
eyes, glistening with pumped-up tears, were raised to Rust's face. I,
her friend, know that she can feel deeply, and I can distinguish that
which she simulates from that which moves her, but the poor creature
Rust was in her hands the most helpless and deluded of victims.

So the day passed. They lunched together and dined together. In the
interva