herine herself seemed unaware of his
unusual costume, reckless of the hour and the strangeness of her visit.
She wore a long chinchilla coat, covering her from head to foot, and a
mantilla veil about her head, which partially obscured her features.
As soon as she raised it, he knew that great things had happened. Her
cheeks were the colour of ivory, and her eyes unnaturally distended. Her
tone was steady but full of repressed passion.

"Julian," she cried, "we have been deceived--tricked! I have come to you
for help. Are the telegrams sent out yet?"

"They go at eight o'clock in the morning," he replied.

"Thank God we are in time to stop them!"

Julian looked at her for a moment, utterly incredulous.

"Stop them?" he repeated. "But how can we? Stenson has declared war."

"Thank heaven for that!" she exclaimed, her voice trembling. "Julian,
the whole thing is an accursed plot. The German Socialists have never
increased their strength except in their own imaginations. They are
absolutely powerless. This is the most cunning scheme of the whole war.
Freistner has simply been the tool of the militarists. They encouraged
him to put forward these proposals and to communicate with Nicholas
Fenn. When the armistice has been declared and negotiations begun, the
three signatures will be repudiated. The peace they mean to impose is
one of their own dictation, and in the meantime we shall have created a
cataclysm here. The war will never start again. All the Allies will be
at a discord."

"How have you found this out?" Julian gasped.

"From one of Germany's chief friends in England. He is high up in the
diplomatic service of--of a neutral country, but he has been working for
Germany ever since the commencement of the war. He has been helping in
this. He has seen me often with Nicholas Fenn, and he believes that I am
behind the scenes, too. He believes that I know the truth, and that I am
working for Germany. He is absolutely to be relied upon. Every word that
I am telling you is the truth."

"What about Fenn?" Julian demanded breathlessly.

"Nicholas Fenn has had a hundred thousand pounds of German money within
the last few months," she replied. "He is one of the foulest traitors
who ever breathed. Freistner's first few letters were genuine
enough, but for the last six weeks he has been imprisoned in a German
fortress--and Fenn knows it."

"Have you any proof of all this?" Julian asked. "Remember we have the
Council to