ys I have but one thought. There is nothing else in my life.
And you, with all those thousands and millions of your fellow creatures
toiling, watching and waiting for a sign from you--oh, I can't imagine
how your thoughts can ever wander from them for a moment, how you can
ever remember that self even exists! I should like to be trusted, Mr.
Fenn, as you are trusted."

"My work," he said complacently, "has, I hope, justified that trust."

"Naturally," she assented, "and yet the greatest part of it is to come.
Tell me about Mr. Orden?"

"There is no change in the fellow's attitude. I don't imagine there
will be until the last moment. He is just a pig-headed, insufferably
conceited Englishman, full of class prejudices to his finger tips."

"He is nevertheless a man," she said thoughtfully. "I heard only
yesterday that he earned considerable distinction even in his brief
soldiering."

"No doubt," Fenn remarked, without enthusiasm, "he has the bravery of an
animal. By the bye, the Bishop dropped in to see me this morning."

"Really?" she asked. "What did he want?"

"Just a personal call," was the elaborately careless reply. "He likes to
look in for a chat, now and then. He spoke about Orden, too. I persuaded
him that if we don't succeed within the next twenty four hours, it will
be his duty to see what he can do."

"Oh, but that was too bad!" she declared. "You know how he feels his
position, poor man. He will simply loathe having to tell Julian--Mr.
Orden, I mean that he is connected with--"

"Well, with what, Miss Abbeway?"

"With anything in the nature of a conspiracy. Of course, Mr. Orden
wouldn't understand. How could he? I think it was cruel to bring the
Bishop into the matter at all."

"Nothing," Fenn pronounced, "is cruel that helps the cause. What will
you drink, Miss Abbeway? You'll have some champagne, won't you?"

"What a horrible idea!" she exclaimed, smiling at him nevertheless.
"Fancy a great Labour leader suggesting such a thing! No, I'll have some
light French wine, thank you."

Fenn passed the order on to the waiter, a little crestfallen.

"I don't often drink anything myself," he said, "but this seemed to me
to be something of an occasion."

"You have some news, then?"

"Not at all. I meant dining with you."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, that?" she murmured. "That is simply a matter of routine. I thought
you had some news, or some work."

"Isn't it possible, Miss Abbeway," he ple