all likely to take advantage of any wild generosity on the part of
Lady Ongar, and then she walked home across the park, meditating on the
character of the two sisters.

Chapter L

Madam Gordeloup Retires From British Diplomacy

The reader must be asked to accompany me once more to that room in Mount
Street in which poor Archie practised diplomacy, and whither the
courageous Doodles was carried prisoner in those moments in which he was
last seen of us. The Spy was now sitting alone before her desk,
scribbling with all her energy--writing letters on foreign policy, no
doubt, to all the courts of Europe, but especially to that Russian court
to which her services were more especially due. She was hard at work,
when there came the sound of a step upon the stairs. The practised ear
of the Spy became erect, and she at once knew who was her visitor. It
was not one with whom diplomacy would much avail, or who was likely to
have money ready under his glove for her behoof. "Ah! Edouard, is that
you? I am glad you have come," she said, as Count Pateroff entered the
room.

"Yes, it is I. I got your note yesterday."

"You are good--very good. You are always good." Sophie, as she said
this, went on very rapidly with her letters--so rapidly that her hand
seemed to run about the paper wildly. Then she flung down her pen, and
folded the paper on which she had been writing with marvellous
quickness. There was an activity about the woman in all her movements
which was wonderful to watch. "There," she said, "that is done; now we
can talk. Ah! I have nearly written off my fingers this morning." Her
brother smiled, but said nothing about the letters. He never allowed
himself to allude in any way to her professional duties.

"So you are going to St. Petersburg?" he said.

"Well--yes, I think. Why should I remain here spending money with both
hands and through the nose?" At this idea the brother again smiled
pleasantly. He had never seen his sister to be culpably extravagant as
she now described herself. "Nothing to get and every thing to lose," she
went on saying.

"You know your own affairs best," he answered.

"Yes, I know my own affairs. If I remained here I should be taken away
to that black building there;" and she pointed in the direction of the
workhouse, which fronts so gloomily upon Mount Street. "You would not
come to take me out."

The count smiled again. "You are too clever for that, Sophie, I think."

"Ah!