s engaged to is in the
habit of going to her house, and stopping until it's time for her to go
to work. He dines with her, but doesn't drive with her to the theatre,
as that would be rather too public for the present, until their
engagement's announced. He adores her, but is inconveniently jealous,
like most Latins. It's practically certain that he's heard your name
mentioned in connection with hers, when she was in London, and as a
Frenchman invariably fails to understand that a man can admire a
beautiful woman without being in love with her, your call at her house
might give Mademoiselle Maxine a _mauvais quart d'heure_."

"I see. But if she sends him away, and comes to my hotel--"

"She'll probably make some excuse about being obliged to go to the
theatre early, and thus get rid of him. She's quite clever enough to
manage that. Then, as your own name won't appear on any hotel list in
the papers next day, the most jealous heart need have no cause for
suspicion. At the same time, if certain persons whom Mademoiselle--and
we, too--have to fear, do find out that she has visited Ivor Dundas, who
has assumed a false name for the pleasure of a private interview with
her, interests of even deeper importance than the most desperate love
affair may still, we'll hope, be guarded by the pretext of your old
friendship. Now, you understand thoroughly?"

"I think so," replied Ivor, very grave and troubled, I knew by the
change in his manner, out of which all the gaiety had been slowly
drained. "I will do my very best."

"If you are sacrificing any important engagements of your own for the
next two days, you won't suffer for it in the end," remarked the Foreign
Secretary meaningly.

No doubt Ivor saw the consulship at Algiers dancing before his eyes,
bound up with an engagement to Di, just as a slice of rich plum cake and
white bride cake are tied together with bows of satin ribbons sometimes,
in America. I didn't want him to have the consulship, because getting
that would perhaps mean getting Di, too.

"Thank you," said Ivor.

"And what hotel shall you choose in Paris?" asked the Foreign Secretary.
"It should be a good one, I don't need to remind you, where Mademoiselle
de Renzie could go without danger of compromising herself, in case she
should be recognised in spite of the veil she's pretty certain to wear.
Yet it shouldn't be in too central a situation."

"Shall it be the Elysee Palace?" asked Ivor.

"That will do ve