f the Besna River,
with its lake system and falls. That should be something in your line."

"No," said Ferdinand sharply. "I told you before--that job's too small
for him. Peer's going to the Euphrates."

"What would it amount to, roughly?" said Peer, addressing no one in
particular.

"As far as I could make out, it should be a matter of a couple of
million crowns or thereabout," said Klaus.

"That's not a thing for Peer," said Ferdinand, rising and lifting his
hand to hide a yawn. "Leave trifles like that to the trifling souls.
Good-night, gentlemen."

A couple of hours later, when all was silent throughout the house, Peer
was still up, wandering to and fro in soft felt slippers in the great
hall. Now and again he would stop, and look out of the window. Why could
he not sleep? The moon was paling, the day beginning to dawn.

Chapter VIII

The next morning Merle was alone in the pantry when she heard steps
behind her, and turned her head. It was Klaus Brock.

"Good-morning, madam--ah! so this is what you look like in morning
dress. Why, morning neglige might have been invented for you, if I
may say so. You might be a Ghirlandajo. Or no, better still, Aspasia
herself."

"You are up early," said Merle drily.

"Am I? What about Ferdinand Holm then? He has been up since sunrise,
sitting over his letters and accounts. Anything I can help you with? May
I move that cheese for you?--Well, well! you are strong. But there, I'm
always de trop where women are concerned."

"Always de trop?" repeated Merle, watching him through her long lashes.

"Yes--my first and only love--do you know who she was?"

"No, indeed. How should I?"

"Well, it was Louise--Peer's little sister. I wish you could have known
her."

"And since then?" Merle let her eyes rest on this flourishing gentleman,
who looked as if he could never have had a trouble in the world.

"Since then, dear lady?--since then? Let me see. Why, at this moment I
really can't remember ever having met any other woman except . . ."

"Except . . . ?"

"Except yourself, madam." And he bowed.

"You are TOO kind!"

"And, that being so, don't you think it's your plain duty, as a
hospitable hostess, to grant me . . ."

"Grant you--what? A piece of cheese?"

"Why, no, thanks. Something better. Something much better than that."

"What, then?"

"A kiss. I might as well have it now." As he took a step nearer, she
looked laughingly round for a way of escape,