ting little picture. Peter
caught a glimpse of his wife's face as she looked upon it.

"I believe," he whispered, "that you are glad."

She turned upon him with a wonderful smile, the light flashing in her
eyes.

"Glad! Oh, Peter, of course I am glad! I hated the country; I pined and
longed for life. Couldn't you see it, dear? Now we are back in it
again--back amongst the big things. Peter, dear, you were never meant to
shoot rabbits and play golf, to grow into the likeness of those awful
people who think of nothing but sport and rural politics and their
neighbours' weaknesses! The man who throws life away before he has done
with it, dear, is a wastrel. Be thankful that it's back again in your
hands--be thankful, as I am!"

He sighed, and with that sigh went all his regrets for the life which
had once seemed to him so greatly to be desired. He recognised in those
few seconds the ignominy of peace.

"There is not the slightest doubt about it," he admitted, "I do make
mistakes."

The automobile came to a standstill before the portico of an imposing
mansion at the corner of Berkeley Square.

"We are home!" Violet whispered. "Try to look as though you were used to
it all!"

A grave-faced major-domo was already upon the steps. In the hall was a
vision of more footmen in quiet but impressive livery. Violet entered
with an air of familiarity. Peter, with one last sigh, followed her.
There was something significant to him in that formal entrance into his
new and magnificent home. Outside, Peter Ruff seemed somewhere to have
vanished into thin air. It was the Baron de Grost who had entered into
his body--the Baron de Grost with a ready-made present, a fictitious
past, a momentous future.

CHAPTER II

THE AMBASSADOR'S WIFE

Alone in his study, with fast-locked door, Baron de Grost sat reading
word by word with zealous care the dispatch from Paris which had just
been delivered into his hands. From the splendid suite of
reception-rooms which occupied the whole of the left-hand side of the
hall, came the faint sound of music. The street outside was filled with
automobiles and carriages setting down their guests. Madame was
receiving to-night a gathering of very distinguished men and women, and
it was only on very urgent business indeed that her husband had dared to
leave her side.

The room in which he sat was in darkness except for the single heavily
shaded electric lamp which stood by his elbow. Peter was