iselle de Renzie!" exclaimed Ivor, off his guard for an instant,
and showing plainly that he was taken aback.

"Isn't she a friend of yours?" asked the Foreign Secretary rather
sharply. Though I couldn't see him, I knew exactly how he would be
looking at Ivor, his keen grey eyes narrowed, his clean-shaven lips
drawn in, the long, well-shaped hand, of which he is said to be vain,
toying with the pale Malmaison pink he always wears in his buttonhole.

"Yes, she is a friend of mine," Ivor answered. "But--"

"A 'but' already! Perhaps I'd better tell you that the mission has to do
with Mademoiselle de Renzie, and, directly, with no one else. She has
acted as my agent in Paris."

"Indeed! I didn't dream that she dabbled in politics."

"And you should not dream it from any word of mine, Mr. Dundas, if it
weren't necessary to be entirely open with you, if you are to help me in
this matter. But before we go any further, I must know whether
Mademoiselle de Renzie's connection with this business will for any
reason keep you out of it."

"Not if--you need my help," said Ivor, with an effort. "And I beg you
won't suppose that my hesitation has anything to do with Miss de Renzie
herself. I have for her the greatest respect and admiration."

"We all have," returned the Foreign Secretary, "especially those who
know her best. Among her many virtues, she's one of the few women who
can keep a secret--her own and others. She is a magnificent actress--on
the stage and off. And now I have your promise to help me, I must tell
you it's to help her as well: therefore I owe you the whole truth, or
you will be handicapped. For several years Mademoiselle de Renzie has
done good service--secret service, you must understand--for Great
Britain."

"By Jove! Maxine a political spy!" Ivor broke out impulsively.

"That's rather a hard name, isn't it? There are better ones. And she's
no traitor to her country, because, as you perhaps know, she's Polish by
birth. I can assure you we've much for which to thank her cleverness and
tact--and beauty. For our sakes I'm sorry that she's serving our
interests professionally for the last time. For her own sake, I ought to
rejoice, as she's engaged to be married. And if you can save her from
coming to grief over this very ticklish business, she'll probably live
happily ever after. Did you know of her engagement?"

"No," replied Ivor. "I saw Miss de Renzie often when she was acting in
London a year ago; bu