sy," Norgate sighed, "makes one observant. You were lunching with
him in the Carlton Grill. You came in with him to the club this
afternoon."

"Sherlock Holmes!" she murmured. "There are other men in the club with
whom I lunch--even dine."

Norgate glanced across the room. Baring was playing bridge at a table
close at hand, but his attention seemed to be abstracted. He looked often
towards where Mrs. Benedek sat. There was a restlessness about his manner
scarcely in keeping with the rest of his appearance.

"One misses a great deal," Norgate regretted, "through being only an
occasional visitor here."

"As, for instance?"

"The privilege of being one of those fortunate few."

She laughed at him. Her eyes were full of challenge. She leaned a little
closer and whispered in his ear: "There is still a vacant place."

"For to-night or to-morrow?" he asked eagerly.

"For to-morrow," she replied. "You may telephone--3702 Mayfair--at
ten o'clock."

He scribbled down the number. Then he put his pocket-book away
with a sigh.

"I'm afraid you are treating that poor sailor-man badly," he declared.

"Sometimes," she confided, "he bores me. He is so very much in earnest.
Tell me about Berlin and your work there?"

"I didn't take to Germany," Norgate confessed, "and Germany didn't take
to me. Between ourselves--I shouldn't like another soul in the club to
know it--I think it is very doubtful if I go back there."

"That little _contretemps_ with the Prince," she murmured under
her breath.

He stiffened at once.

"But how do you know of it?"

She bit her lip. For a moment a frown of annoyance clouded her face. She
had said more than she intended.

"I have correspondents in Berlin," she explained. "They tell me of
everything. I have a friend, in fact, who was in the restaurant
that night."

"What a coincidence!" he exclaimed.

She nodded and selected a fresh cigarette.

"Isn't it! But that table is up. I promised to cut in there. Captain
Baring likes me to play at the same table, and he is here for such a
short time that one tries to be kind. It is indeed kindness," she added,
taking up her gold purse and belongings, "for he plays so badly."

She moved towards the table. It happened to be Baring who cut out, and he
and Norgate drifted together. They exchanged a few remarks.

"I met you at Marseilles once," Norgate reminded him. "You were with the
Mediterranean Squadron, commanding the _Leicester_, I believe."