horrible house, in a horrible, lonely spot. Within
a day or two I shall leave it myself for ever. I hate it--it gets on my
nerves. I dream of all the terrible things which perhaps have taken
place there. Who can tell? It was Bernadine's long before I came to
England."

"When are we to come?" Peter asked.

"You must come back with me now, at once," the Baroness insisted. "I
cannot tell how soon someone in his confidence may arrive."

"I will order my car," Peter declared.

She laid her hand upon his arm.

"Do you mind coming in mine?" she begged. "It is of no consequence, if
you object, but every servant in Bernadine's house is German and a spy.
There are no women except my own maid. Your car is likely enough known
to them, and there might be trouble. If you will come with me now, you
and your friend, if you like, I will send you to the station to-night in
time to catch the train home. I feel that I must have this thing off my
mind. You will come? Yes?"

Peter rang the bell and ordered his coat.

"Without a doubt," he answered. "May we not offer you some tea first?"

She shook her head.

"To-day I cannot think of eating or drinking," she replied. "Bernadine
and I were no longer what we had been, but the shock of his death seems
none the less terrible. I feel like a traitor to him for coming here,
yet I believe that I am doing what is right," she added softly.

"If you will excuse me for one moment," Peter said, "while I take leave
of my wife, I will rejoin you presently."

Peter was absent for only a few minutes. Sogrange and the Baroness
exchanged the merest commonplaces. As they all passed down the hall
Sogrange lingered behind.

"If you will take the Baroness out to the car," he suggested, "I will
telephone to the Embassy and tell them not to expect me."

Peter offered his arm to his companion. She seemed, indeed, to need
support. Her fingers clutched at his coat-sleeve as they passed on to
the pavement.

"I am so glad to be no longer quite alone," she whispered. "Almost I
wish that your friend were not coming. I know that Bernadine and you
were enemies, but then you were enemies not personally but politically.
After all, it is you who stand for the things which have become so dear
to me."

"It is true that Bernadine and I were bitter antagonists," Peter
admitted gravely. "Death, however, ends all that. I wish him no further
harm."

She sighed.

"As for me," she said, "I am growing used to being