The Shadow of Tyburn Tree

" 'Tis that gloomy with all the blinds pulled down that we're better off up here, Milady. None of them went to church this morning, and all the guests have gone back to London. That is, excepting Mr. Brook, whom you may say is one of the family, and the Russian gentleman. 'Tis said below stairs that as he was the first to find you with Sir" Humphrey, the Colonel asked him to stay on to attend the inquest."

"Inquest!" Georgina dropped her fork.

"Why, yes, Milady. Seeing Sir Humphrey died so sudden there has to be an inquest. 'Tis to be held at ten o'clock to-morrow in the library, so I'm told."

"Will they—will they wish me to attend it?"

"That's more than I can say, Milady. But don't look so worried, now. If they do 'twill not be for more than a few minutes to tell how Sir Humphrey died."

Jenny produced a small folded note from her apron pocket and went on. "The Russian gentleman asked me to give you this, Milady; and Mr. Brook and the Colonel both inquired after you again."

Georgina took the note and opened it. As she read the fine French writing she compressed her lips, then pushed it aside with apparent casuaktess; but she was considerably disturbed. It ran:

My Lady,

At ten o'clock to-morrow morning there is to be an inquiry into the manner in which your Ladyship's husband came by his death. Colonel Thursby has requested me stay on and make a formal deposition of such particulars regarding it as are known to me. I understand from him that your Ladyship will be called onto do the same. While I should be the last to suggest that your Ladyship, any more than myself, has the least desire to conceal any essential portion of the truth my feeling is that no good purpose could be served in disclosing irrelevant details to the idle curiosity of the vulgar. Should your Ladyship be of the same mind, you will realise the importance of our agreeing upon the lines that our respective statements should take, before attending the inquiry. Unless, therefore, your maid brings me a message to the contrary, I propose to do myself the honour of wailing upon your Ladyship in your boudoir this evening at eight o'clock.

Your Ladyship's

Most obliged, obedient and humble servant.

While she ate her chicken Georgina considered the implications of the new development. Instinctively she shrank from granting the Russian the tete-a-tetethat he requested. She knew that she had behaved like a fool and treated him badly the previous night; but he had sought to revenge himself in such a despicable manner, and brought such grievous trouble upon her, that she felt they were more than quits over that. She had counted on his departing without her having to see him again, and was determined to avoid his society in the future.

On the other hand, since this wretched inquest had to be faced, there was sound sense in his suggestion. Unless their statements about the sending of the note tallied, certain facts that they both wished to conceal might yet emerge. If that happened further probing might bring to light other, far more damning, matters. Georgina shuddered, and decided to see the Russian.

At seven o'clock she told Jenny that she meant to get up for a few hours, and set about making her toilette. Feeling that dead black would be overdoing matters for an interview with a man who knew that she had been on far from good terms with her husband, she put on a dove grey gown relieved only by a cross-over fichu of white muslin at the breast and frills of the same at the wrists.

She thought it unlikely that, in the circumstances, the Russian would try any tricks, but as a precaution, she told Jenny to remain in the bedroom to be within call; then, shortly before eight o'clock, she settled herself with a book in her boudoir.

Vorontzoff was punctual to the minute. He was dressed with his usual richness, but, appropriately, in a coat and breeches of sombre purple satin. His dark eyes gave her a quick, searching look, but his glance remained inscrutable. Having curtseyed to his bow, she waved him to a chair and, forcing herself to smile, said as lightly as she could:

"I am obliged to you, Monsieur, for waiting on me. 'Twas a most sensible suggestion of yours that we should meet before attending this plaguey inquiry. 'Tis an ordeal that I would gladly be spared but I take it my presence is considered essential?"

"I fear so, Madame," he smiled back. "And I appreciate that any public appearance must naturally be distressing to you at such a time. But I pray you do not concern yourself about it unduly. 'Tis merely a formality, and providing we agree as to what each of us should say 'twill call for no more than a repetition of what was said this morning."

"Concerning last night,.." she hesitated, and then went on boldly. "It had been my intention to make you a sincere apology; but I think you will agree that the steps you took to repay my disappointing you have cancelled out any obligation of that kind upon my part. I will only say now that matters did not transpire altogether as you have been led to suppose, and that to some extent unforeseen events govern­ed my actions."

He nodded. *'I had an idea that might be the case. 'Twas clear to me from early in the evening that Mr. Brook was the victim of an acute jealousy. For my part, while I do not seek to excuse my act, I can assure you that it was carried out only on an impulse engendered by what I considered to be extreme provocation. Yet, even so, 'twas aimed at Mr. Brook rather than at yourself."

Georgina gave an- inward sigh of relief. That difficult hurdle had been got over with a fair degree of face-saving on both sides.

The interview was not going to be as difficult as she had expected, and it seemed that owing to her tact she could now rely on the good­will of the Russian. After a moment, she said: "Perhaps you would acquaint me now, Monsieur, with what you have in mind regarding to-morrow?"

"Merely, Madame, since we are good friends again, to do all in my power to spare you embarrassment."

" 'Twould reflect upon us equally if the true reason for your send­ing your messenger to Goodwood became common property; and I am no less willing to spare you embarrassment with regard to that."

He shrugged his broad shoulders. "I pray you take no thought for me, Madame. 'Tis no longer necessary."

"How mean you?"

"Since you find the position obscure, you must forgive me if I put the matter with some bluntness. After your admission of this morning that you inspired my act, should you retract 'twould be only your word against mine. Moreover, your original statement will receive the greater credence, and the case against you will only become the more damning should you begin to contradict yourself."

She was quick to see his point and realise that she had already let him out. He was no longer dependent on her; whereas if he chose to retract, and declare that he had instinctively sought to protect her from scandal that morning but could no longer bring himself to do so when placed on oath, her whole position would be jeopardised. Yet it was clearly to his own interest to maintain the fiction, so she was not particularly disturbed, and said: "We are agreed then that we should continue to explain your note as a plot between us, inspired by me with the intention of making a fool of my husband?"

"Why, yes. If you, Madame, can provide an adequate reason for wishing to play so aggravating a trick on him."

"There would have been reason enough in the way he has plagued me during recent months by prying into my affairs. Charles Fox and numerous other people could substantiate that."

" 'Tis well, then." Vorontzoff stood up, apparently to go, and Georgina was greatly relieved to think that this trying interview had passed off so smoothly. But, instead of making her a leg, he stood for a moment regarding her with a faintly sardonic smile. Then he said: "It remains only for me to offer you my felicitations."

She kept her tone light and raised an eyebrow. "I cannot think, Monsieur, of any matter upon which felicitations are called for."

He pretended amused surprise. "Your memory is short, then. 'Twas but yesterday you declared in the presence of Mr. Fox and myself that you wished to Heaven you were rid of your husband."

Georgina did not at all like the turn that the conversation had so suddenly taken, and she replied with marked coldness. "Given grounds for annoyance people oft make such thoughtless statements without meaning aught by them. And I count it in ill-taste, Monsieur, that you should remind me of my words."

Vorontzoff bowed. "I take it, however, that they are one of the things which yon would prefer that I should not mention at the inquest."

She looked quickly away. "Naturally, Monsieur; since an entirely false construction might be put upon them."

"In that, Madame, permit me to disagree. And at the risk of in­curring your further displeasure I offer you my congratulations. 'Twas neatly done. I much admire the manner in which you handled a situation calling for great resource and courage."

"What mean you, Monsieur?" she frowned, endeavouring to hide her rising apprehension.

"I refer to the little secret that we share. Fortunately, I am reason­ably confident that no one else suspects the truth."

"You were speaking of the real reason which prompted you to send that message?"

"Oh, no, Madame. That is quite a minor matter. Since you have already saved my face while saving your own I have scarce given the note another thought. The secret that I have in mind has no connection with the bringing of Sir Humphrey here; 'tis what befell him when he reached your chamber."

Georgina paled. Her thoughts were racing. What did the Russian suspect? What could he possibly know? Perhaps he was only trying to draw her out on the off chance that she might have concealed some details of the fatality. In any case she must say as little as possible and choose her words with the utmost caution.

"I—I fail to understand ..." she began.

"You understand very well, Madame," he cut her short, and went on with cynical gallantry. "Again I congratulate you on your resolution. His was a useless life, and I admire you all the more, in that, finding yourself cornered, you seized the opportunity to take it."

"Monsieurl" She sprang to her feet. "How dare you make so in­famous an accusation?"

Vorontzoff shrugged. "If 'twas not you who actually struck the blow, then 'twas Mr. Brook. The two of you killed Sir Humphrey Etheredge between you."

" 'Tis a lie!"

"Calm yourself, Madame, I beg. Your secret is safe with me. But 'tis essential that we should understand one another on certain matters if 'tis to be kept from others."

"I have no secret!" Georgina cried; but she was frightened now and she could not keep the huskiness out of her voice as she hurried on. "Mr. Brook played no part in the affair. He left me earlier. To that I swear!"

"Indeed!" The Russian laughed. "You admit then that he spent most of the night with you, to my discomfiture?"

"To you I'll not deny it; though I'll call you a liar to your face if you repeat me."

" 'Twill be a case of the pot an,d the kettle, then. For I call you one now, in maintaining that Mr. Brook had left you."

"He had, I tell you! As to the rest, matters befell exactly as I reported. Sir Humphrey arrived in a state bordering on exhaustion. On learning that he had been fooled his rage became uncontrollable. He struck me with his whip, then fell in a fit on the floor after I had fainted."

"Pardon one slight correction, Madame." Vorontzoff bowed. "You should have said: 'After I flung my scent bottle at his head'."

Georgina stared at him with distended eyes as he went on quite casually. " 'Twas the finding of that bottle which gave me the clue to all that had taken place. You said that he must have knocked it from your dressing-table. I am prepared to state on oath that last night it was beside your bed. Moreover, the shoulders of his coat and his cravat were saturated with its contents. How could that have come about had he knocked it from the table with his whip. No, Madame. You threw it at him and it hit him on the temple. He fell and, perhaps, had some sort of fit. Having reduced him to a helpless state you saw your opportunity. I have little doubt but that you played Lady Macbeth and gave the word. Then Mr. Brook took steps to ensure that your victim should not recover."

"I tell you Mr. Brook had left me earlier!" Georgina almost screamed.

The dark Tartar eyes of the Russian held hers as those of a snake holds those of a bird, and he slowly shook his head. "You fatigue yourself unnecessarily, Madame, by, yes—as the English say—attempt­ing to pull the wool over my eyes. Mr. Brook sought to protect you from your husband's whip. He has since kept his hand concealed in a scarf on the pretence of having hurt it; but this morning the weal from the lash showed plain across its back. That mark is a fair match for the one upon your neck. 'Tis the proof that he was with you, and that a brawl occurred before Sir Humphrey had his seizure."

"I deny it! You are inventing all this for some wicked purpose of ' your own."

"Since you disbelieve me, when I am gone, send for Mr. Brook and ask him to show you his hand."

Georgina recalled the way in which Roger had flung himself across the bed in front of her. With an awful sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach she realised that the Russian could not have made up his last assertion. What he had said about the scent-bottle could be no more than a shrewd guess, but if Roger's hand was marked with a weal such a damning piece of evidence could send them both to the gallows.

"Do you—do you intend to disclose this at the inquest?" she faltered.

"Why no, Madame!" he reassured her quickly. "How could you ever suppose such a thing? Did we not agree but a while back to bear no further malice to one another on account of last night's events?

Now that we are again good friends my only desire is to be of service to you."

"I thank you, Monsieur." She moistened her dry lips, and, realising the necessity of playing up to him, went on after a moment. "I am most sensible of the service you propose to render me; and for the future you may indeed count on my friendship."

Taking the hand that she extended to him, he kissed it. Then he said quietly. "Be assured 'tis a friendship that I shall treasure beyond rubies. It remains only for us to cement it."

She gave him a quick, sideways look. "What mean you?"

He caught her glance and smiled. "Have I not already made it plain, Madame, that I count the qualities required to participate in such a deed, and to carry it off, an addition to your attractions?"

" 'Tis a strange form of flattery, Monsieur."

"Not from a man such as myself. A bold and violent woman touches a responsive chord in my own nature; more especially when such qualities are enshrined in one so superbly beautiful as yourself. At what hour shall I wait upon you to-night?"

"To-night!"

"Why, yes. For the cementing of our friendship."

Her eyes were wide and frightened again, but she knew how vitally important it was to keep his goodwill, so she said hurriedly. "Monsieur; you must surely see that it is impossible for me to receive you to-night. Bold and violent I may be in some things; but I am not without a sense of decency. My husband died only this morning and his body still lies unburied in the house. 'Twould not only be unfitting but a most shameful act."

"I'll not believe that you are seriously troubled by such squeamishness," he smiled. "A woman of your metal must know that love tastes at its best when 'tis salted with death. For myself, were any added incentive needed, the thought of the part you played this morning would provide it."

She shrank away from him, exclaiming: "Nay! Nay! I will lie with no man to-night."

"You mock me still, then," he said with sudden harshness. "Do you accept my friendship or reject it? Answer."

"I—I accept it," she stammered, now terrified at the thought of what he might do if she made him her enemy. "But you ask too much of me. Perhaps when I come to London...."

"Do you take me for a fool, Madame! What value can you expect me to place upon any promise you may make after your treatment of me last night. Think you I'll give you rope to send your Mr. Brook to put a further slight upon me at some future date? No, no! The inquest is to-morrow, and after it my trump-card will have lost its value. You will pleasure me to-night or never."

"You cannot—you cannot mean that you would tell all you know— all you suspect, unless I consent?"

He bowed ironically. "Madame; you have summed up the situation

perfectly. Events have placed you completely in my power; and for having so lightly given Mr. Brook the preference over myself, after having raised my hopes, I mean to make you pay to the last farthing. By eleven o'clock you will see to it that you are alone and that the door of your chamber is unbolted."

Something snapped in Georgina's brain. White to the lips and with her eyes blazing, she cried: "I'll do no such thing! I will not lie with you to-night or at any other time. Nay, never! Not if you were the last man on earth. I will hang rather! Now, get you from my sight! Be gone this instant, or I will ring for my servants to throw you from the house."

"Such a show of spirit makes you more desirable than ever," he mocked her; but he moved quietly to the door. At it he turned and delivered a final ultimatum. "You still have two hours in which to think matters over, Madame. No doubt time will restore your calm and reflection bring you wisdom. You can send me a message by your maid. But remember; only your kisses to-night can seal my lips at the inquest to-morrow."

CHAPTER VI

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

WHEN the door had closed behind Vorontzoff, Georgina did not give way to either tears or panic. Her rage was white-hot but she knew that this was no time to allow hysteria to overcome her; She had to think, and use her brain calmly and logically in order to decide which she should take of two horrible alternatives.

The Russian's threat to make her pay to the last farthing was ample evidence of the intensity of the bitterness she had aroused in him the night before. She had sensed the barbarian streak in him and now knew that it lay more than skin deep. He was vicious, brutal and unscrupulous to the last degree. She felt certain that if he could not have her he was quite capable of destroying her.

Had she alone been concerned she would have stuck to her guns and taken a desperate gamble on the Russian being disbelieved; but she had Roger to think of. His swiftly made plan to save them both had proved sound in all essentials. Vorontzoff alone had seen through it; and that only on account of the special knowledge he had of the previous night's events. He alone had had reason from the start to suppose that Roger had been with her, thus making it easy for him to connect the weal on Roger's hand with the mark on her neck. He alone had known that she kept the scent-bottle not on her dressing-table, but by her bed. Everyone else had accepted the story she had told in its entirety. And there was every reason now to suppose that, subject to the Russian keeping his mouth shut, it would also be believed at the official inquiry.

She knew that any chance she had, so far, of escaping the terrible penalty which must follow discovery, she owed to Roger's quick wits and sure handling of her during those moments of crisis. Now it was her turn. She had it in her power to save the situation; could she do less for him? He would not wish her to, at the price; of that she was certain. But his life was in her hands. Her conviction would mean his too. There was no escaping that; and she could not let him die. She loved him with a greater, deeper, more constant Jove than she would ever feel for any husband. Whatever it cost her she must save him by her surrender.

She thought then of what that would mean, and a little shudder ran through her. Somehow, last night the same prospect had seemed at first intriguing, then vaguely distasteful and rather frightening, but no worse than that. Now it was horrible—repulsive. She recalled again Vorontzoff saying that he would make her pay to the last farthing, and wondered what he had meant. She had a fairly shrewd idea. To revenge himself the more fully he intended to treat her with unbridled viciousness and brutality. It had been her sensing of his desire to do that during their first encounter which had frightened her. And now there would be no reason why he should put any re­straint upon himself. Last night, if he had handled her roughly, she could have got rid of him by threatening to call for help, and saying that he had forced his way into her room against her will. But she would not be able to do that to-night. He would continue to hold his black­mail over her and force her to submit to his every wish for seven long hours, until dawn at last set her free.

Little beads of perspiration broke out on her broad forehead and her hands were damp. She wondered with a sick feeling, that made her near to vomiting, whether she could go through with it, even to save Roger's life and her own. As in a nightmare, ghastly scenes with the Russian and herself as the actors seethed in her brain. Grimly a thought came to her. She had always loved weapons, and in the drawer of her bedside table she kept a beautifully chased Italian stiletto. If the Russian drove her too far she would use it on him.

If she killed him they would hang her for that. But no; if she swore that he had crept into her room while she was asleep and had tried to rape her, they would let her off. Her eyes glittered dangerously. That was the solution to this dreadful business. The stiletto was sharp as a razor and no wider than her thumb at its broadest part. One swift blow and it would be all over. Then, whatever might happen to her, Count Vorontzoff would have got his just deserts, and, with the closing of his mouth for good, Roger, at least, would be safe.

At that last thought another struck her. It was going to prove difficult, if not impossible, to keep Roger out of this new develop­ment. She never went to sleep before midnight, and whenever she and Roger spent the night apart it was his habit to come to her room and give her a good-night kiss before retiring to his own. It was certain that he would do so to-night, and as Vorontzoff proposed to come to her at eleven Roger would find the Russian with her. That could now result in only one thing; another killing in her bedchamber.

She began to consider how she could prevent Roger coming to her, but could see no way to do so. Not having seen her all day he must be consumed with anxiety about her state of mind and desperately anxious to prime her further for to-morrow's inquest.

It occurred to her that she could send a note to Vorontzoff putting him off till after midnight, but she feared that if she made the assign­ation for later than one o'clock he would rebel, and send a reply insist­ing that she should give him full value for his money. And even a two-hour, postponement was no certain guarantee against a clash. Roger would have so much to talk over with her that he might easily remain until long after one, and if she tried to get rid of him prematurely it was certain that he would suspect something.

It dawned on her then that, as their minds were so well attuned, he would suspect something in any case. It was useless to attempt to deceive him. They could both lie convincingly to other people, when the need arose, but they were not good liars to one another. She knew that before he had been with her for ten minutes the whole miserable story would come out.

There was only one thing for it. She must send for Roger and tell him the truth. She need not tell him her worst fears. She could spare him those, at least, and she would say nothing of her intentions if driven to desperation; then, hate the thought as he might, he would assume that she was paying no higher price for their safety than she had been apparently quite willing to pay for the Russian's political influence on the previous night. She must hear anything that he had to say about the inquiry to-morrow, now; and positively forbid him to come in to her later.

Having made up her mind she scribbled a note, asking Roger to come to her boudoir as soon as he could find an opportunity, and sent it down by Jenny.

For a quarter of an hour she paced her room consumed with im­patience. Then Roger appeared. They exchanged a single look, and without a word, flew to one anothers arms.

"My love," he murmured. "I have been driven near crazy from the thought of you here alone and uncomforted all day."

"And I for you," she whispered back. "Our separation at such a time has proved nigh insupportable to me; yet I knew 'twas wise that we should remain apart."

He held her away from him and smiled. "Yet all goes well! You need fear nothing from this inquest which is being held to-morrow. The court will consist only of local farmers and shopkeepers from the village; mostly tenants of your own; so naturally subservient from their station. They will accept your father's version of what occurred before you appear. All you will be called on to do is to confront them dressed in black and give the bare outline of your story. They'll ask no questions but simply offer you their sympathy."

She let him finish, then slowly shook her head. "All does not go well, dear Roger. Let me see your hand."

With a sudden frown he held it up, bound round with a silk hand­kerchief. "What of it? There is a red weal across the back where 'twas caught by Sir Humphrey's whip. But no one suspects that. I have given out. . . ."

"Someone not only suspects, but knows it," she interrupted. "Who?" he gasped.

"Vorontzoff! He was here but half an hour back, and he has guessed the truth." She then gave Roger a brief resumé of her interview with the Russian.

When she had done, he said abruptly. "You cannot do this. I will not have it."

"Why not?" she countered. " 'Tis my affair and a small enough price to pay for both our necks."

"It would have gone against the grain with you last night. You admitted that."

"Upon your coming I felt the contrast, I'll agree. Yet earlier I had thought it might be quite amusing. I feel that way about it again to-night."

"Georgina, you are lying. I can see it in your eyes."

She sighed. "Roger, dear heart, I beg you not to make things more difficult for me. I did not count my blessings when I had them, and like a fool was led on by curiosity to play with fire. This morning it threatened to consume us both in an inferno, but your wit and courage has saved us from that. Now, at worst, it can but scorch me a little, and to-morrow you will be here to kiss me well again. Do not be stubborn and oppose me in this. To-night will be even harder for you to bear than for me. That, I now realise, and am shamed that I set so little store on what your feelings might be before. But now I have no choice, and you must support this burden with such fortitude as you can muster. I would not even have told you of it, had it not been imperative that I should warn you that in no circumstances must you come to my room. To-morrow we'll start life anew. But' to-night I am determined to see this matter through. There is no other course."

During her outburst Roger had been holding her by the arms and looking straight into her face. He now released her, and, thrusting his hands into his breeches pockets, began to walk angrily up and down.

"There is another course," he muttered. "That is for me to send Vorontzoff a challenge."

" 'Tis useless. He would simply laugh at you. Since he has both of us in his clutches he would be crazy to accept it. And even if he was fool enough to do so you could not fight until to-morrow morning."

"I could waylay him in his room to-night before he comes to you, force him to fight there, and kill him."

"You'll attempt no such thing!'' she declared firmly. " 'Twould be counted murder and they would hang you for it. If you do I'll announce the reason for your act and confess the whole affair from the beginning. That I swear, by my love for you. So you would have gained nothing and have my blood upon your hands as well."

He knew from her tone that she meant it and that it would be futile to argue with her; yet his whole nature cried out in protest against tamely accepting the present situation. With a scowl upon his face he continued to pace to and fro, vainly seeking a way out of the snare in which they had been caught.

She watched him narrowly, praying that her ultimatum would prove a sufficient deterrent to prevent him from risking his life afresh, in a desperate attempt to relieve her of the hateful thing to which she was committed.

For a long time neither of them spoke. She could almost see his brain seething with revolt, as he thought up idea after idea only to reject each in turn as either useless or impractical; but she dared not break in upon his deliberations for fear of precipitating a decision on his part to adopt some desperate course. She was hoping, that given a little time, he would become calmer and accept the inevitable.

At last he spoke. "So be it, then. You shall give the Russian the assignation he demands; but not in your chamber. There are pens and paper in your secretaire. I pray you sit down there and write as I shall dictate."

"Roger, what have you in mind?" she asked nervously.

"Oblige me by doing as I say," he replied with a hard note in his voice; and when she had seated herself he went on. "No superscription is necessary. Simply write as follows:

"Privacy is essential to our meeting, and any interruption of it would prove most dangerous to you as well as to myself. For reasons which you will guess, it is beyond my power to ensure our remaining undisturbed together in my apartments. Therefore, I pray you, be in the Orangery at midnight, and when all is quiet I will join you there."

In a bold, flowing hand Georgina wrote as she was bid. When she had done Roger said, with a thoughtful narrowing of his eyes. "You need say no more. On reading that he will assume that you have not dared to tell me of the demand he has made upon you, and can think of no means to guard with certainty against my coming to you myself sometime during the night. He will have the sense to see that in such a case bloody murder would result; so, albeit somewhat reluctantly, he will accept the rendezvous you offer him in the Orangery instead of coming to your room."

"How will that serve us, apart from the postponement of the meeting shortening by an hour the time that I must spend in his company?"

A sudden smile lit up Roger's face. "If he reacts as I have forecast, my pet, you will not be called on to spend a single moment in his com­pany. 'Tis I, not you, who will keep this midnight rendezvous/'

She started up from her desk. "I have already vowed that if you kill him. . . ."

"Nay, I seek but an opportunity to converse with him secure from interruption."

"Why waste your breath? Neither prayers nor threats will move him from his purpose; and your intervention will serve only to irritate him further."

"That we shall see. If Jenny is still up I pray you send him the note by her."

Georgina hesitated. "I—I can scarce believe that you intend no more than to talk with the Russian. I'll not send this note unless you pledge me your honour that you meditate no attempt upon his life."

"I give you my word that at this interview I will not seek to draw him into a fight, or by any other means shed one drop of his pestifer­ous blood. Is that enough?"

She smiled, rather wanly. "I know the clever brain that lies behind those seemingly innocent blue eyes of yours too well, not to suspect that it has formulated some audacious scheme. Yet I must take your word, lest I drive you to some more desperate measure. When may I hope to learn the outcome of the meeting?"

"Persuading him to see reason may take some time, and I should be loath to rouse you from your sleep."

She gave a bitter little laugh. "How can you think I'd find it possible to sleep, until I know what to expect?"

"Then I will look in upon you on my way to bed. But be not anxious for me if the hour grows late before my coining."

"No matter the hour, I'll thank God on my knees if it be you who comes at all. I'll not believe that I've escaped him till I see you."

Roger took her hand. "Be not so despondent, sweet; but send the note, and put your trust in me."

"I will. I beg you, though, to have a care for your dear self. He is a monstrous tricky beast and may seek to do you some injury if you detain him overlong."

'Til keep good watch against that," he promised. Then, after a single kiss, he left her.

She had only just given the note to Jenny when her father came in. As he stooped to Mss her cheek his lean face broke into a smile, and he said:

" 'Tis good to learn that you are already sufficiently recovered to receive visitors, m'dear; as I had felt that in any case this evening 'twould be as well for us to have a talk." Then he made himself com­fortable in an armchair opposite her.

father and daughter were so close in heart and mind that he was fully aware how matters had lain between her and her late husband, so she felt no restraint in talking to him about her marriage, and made

no secret of the fact that she was thoroughly glad to be rid of Sir Humphrey.

The Colonel added his assurances to those Roger had already given her, that the inquest would be no more than a formality; then they dropped the subject and talked for a while of interesting places that they might visit when next they went abroad together.

His easy manner and charming humour did much to soothe her nerves and take her mind off her anxieties. He had not been with her for ten minutes before she mentally blessed his coming, and it was not until nearly two hours later, when he stood up to go, that she realised how the time had flown.

Just as he was about to kiss her good-night he paused, and said with unwonted gravity. "Georgina. If there is anything else about this morning's events which you think I ought to know, now is your oppor­tunity to tell me of it."

She looked him straight in the eyes and shook her head. "No, papa. I have nought to add to what I have already said."

He took a pinch of snuff and nodded. "You are old enough now to use your own judgment, m'dear. But no one knows better than my­self the impulsiveness of your nature, and the sort of trouble into which it may lead you. I have every confidence in Roger's level-headedness and you have no doubt had the benefit of his guidance. Do nothing contrary to that, I beg, and say as little as possible to-morrow. Good­night, my love, and may God have you in his keeping."

As he left her she wondered just how much he suspected. He knew, of course, that Roger was her lover, since she had never sought to conceal such matters from him; but the way he had looked at her suggested that he believed her to be concealing something concerning her husband's death. She thought that he had been silently inviting her to tell him the truth, and that perhaps she ought to have done so; but she had instinctively acted on his own teaching—that one must bear one's own burdens in life, and that it was a mark of cowardice to seek to unload them onto other people.

"Man-made laws," he had once told her, "are but a rough guide to conduct, for the general protection of society. They should be dis­regarded when they are no longer in keeping with one's sense of right. Do what you will, provided that you can square it with your own con­science. But even if you fail in that you must endeavour to regain your own integrity by finding the courage to face the consequence of your act without whimpering about your lot to others, and involving them in your troubles."

She had lived by that philosophy and felt that now was no time to go back upon it. If her father suspected anything it was because he believed that Roger had been with her. Had he had it in his power to help her, that would have been different. It was legitimate to ask a friend for any concrete aid that he could render. That was the essence of friendship and a high compliment to the friend concerned; but it was not right to confess one's sins merely for the squalid luxury of weeping on a friend's shoulder.

Convinced that she had acted rightly Georgina sought her bed. It was now just on eleven o'clock, the hour that Vorontzoff had intend­ed to come to her; but she felt fairly certain now that Roger had been right in asserting that the Russian would prefer to accept a later assign­ation rather than risk being surprised in her room.

She took her time undressing and doing her hair so that it was midnight before she doused the candles on her dressing-table and got into bed.

With a little shudder she thought of all that had happened since she had lain there, so secure and happy, snugly curled in Roger's arms. She wondered if he and the Russian had yet met in the Orangery and what would be the outcome of the meeting. She had no great hopes for it as regards herself; as she could not believe that Vorontzoff would pay the least regard to any appeal Roger might make to his better nature; neither could she imagine any way in which Roger could strike a bargain with the Russian, or coerce him, short of using force.

Vorontzoff, she felt certain, would merely laugh at him and, within a few moments openly declare his intention of coming up to her. That would be the crucial point upon which everything hung. Would Roger stand aside and let him? Would his promise to her weigh suffi­ciently with him to restrain him from some act of violence? Her life as well as his would depend upon it, and, ruthless as he might be once he let himself go, she had never known him lose his head in a crisis.

Among other things her father had taught her was, that one can pray every bit as effectually either standing up or lying down as one can when kneeling; and also that prayer is far more potent when offered up for another than for oneself: So she began to pray; silently, fer­vently, not that she should be spared the ordeal that she now dreaded so terribly, but that Roger be given sagacity, restraint and wisdom.

After a time her prayers gave place to a conscious effort to co­ordinate the power of her will with his. She did not seek to dominate him, but to strengthen all. his best qualities by letting her own flow out of her towards him. Suddenly it came to her as clearly as a light in the darkness that they were en rapport, and she knew without a shadow of doubt that Roger was laughing.

It was so. Despite the grimness of the task upon which he was engaged, Roger found something irresistibly comic in the sight of the Russian Ambassador's limp body spreadeagled in a wheelbarrow. Probably it was the absurd, puppet-like way in which his enemy's legs and arms dangled helplessly over the sides of the barrow, and waggled at its every movement; but he could not help chuckling to himself as he wheeled his unconscious human load along a shadowy path through the shrubberies of the moonlit garden.

The Orangery had also been lit only by the moon, and ten minutes earlier Vorontzoff had swaggered into it exuding his usual self-corn­plaisance. He had been annoyed by the postponing of his anticipated triumph, even for an hour; although conceding that there appeared to be an adequate reason for the alteration of the rendezvous. But he was in no mood to let Georgina get away with a brief encounter among the ill-lit semi-tropical greenery. He was an epicure in women and wanted to gaze his fill at her, in comfort and at his leisure; so he had determined to insist that, since in her own room they might be liable to interruption, she should accompany him to his.

Instead, he had been standing there awaiting her coming for barely a minute when Roger stepped softly from behind a banana-palm, and slugged him heavily on the back of the head with a small bag con­taining four pounds of wet sand.

It was over two hours since Roger had left Georgina, so he had had ample time to make his preparations; and, so far, his plan had gone with the smoothness of clockwork. As the sandbag hit Vorontzoff he had given a single grunt, his knees collapsed and he slumped un­conscious onto the mosaic pavement. Picking him up, Roger carried him outside to the wheelbarrow which he had placed there for the pur­pose. In it there was already a small portmanteau containing various things that he might require. Bracing his muscles he had lifted the shafts and set off cheerfully down a garden path that led away from the back of the house.

On emerging from the shrubberies he followed the east side of the walled fruit garden, then, with no small effort, pulled the barrow over a steeply curved Chinese bridge that spanned a small stream. On its far side the garden ended, but the path continued, winding its way through semi-cultivated woodlands that had been planted with many thousands of bulbs and clumps of rhododendrons. A quarter of a mile farther on, the tops of a group of tall Scotch pines, rising high above the other trees, stood out clearly against the night sky. Their promin­ence was due to the fact that they had been planted on a great artificial mound several hundred yards in circumference. In its interior, under many feet of earth, lay a large, low, circular chamber, to which access could be gained by a short passage, ending at a stout wooden door set in one side of the mound.

Nearly all large country houses of the period had in their grounds similar man-made wooded knolls with a subterranean chamber under­neath. Many of them were of great antiquity, as they were an ingenious Roman device for ensuring a supply of ice right through the summer. When the lakes froze in winter hundreds of big blocks of ice were cut from them and stored, after which the change of temperature above ground affected them hardly at all, as even in the height of summer, the shade of the trees kept cool the thick layer of earth beneath which they were stacked.

Having visited the mound during one of his walks with Georgina a few days before, Roger knew that the door of the chamber was not kept locked. Halting the wheelbarrow at the bottom of the slope he pulled the Russian across his shoulders, carried him to the entrance opened the door, from which there issued a blast of cold air, and pushed him inside. He then returned for the portmanteau, rejoined his victim and, producing a dark lantern, lit it from his tinder-box.

VorontzofI was still lying comatose. Shining the light upon his face Roger leaned forward and gave it a couple of hard slaps. The Russian began to roll his head about slightly and make a low moan. Roger repeated the tonic and his enemy's eyes flickered open. Pulling him roughly to his feet Roger half led, half pushed him along the short passage as far as the opening into the chamber and let him drop to the floor there. Then he fetched his portmanteau, got out four candles, stood them up and lit them. Their light struck rainbow colours from the nearby ice blocks, giving the weird scene a resemblance to Dante's frozen seventh Hell.

It was as silent as the grave there; until the Russian scrabbled his feet in wriggling into a sitting position from which he stared malevolent­ly up at his captor.

Roger grinned down at him, and said suavely. " 'Tis not quite the type of entertainment to which you were no doubt looking forward, Excellency, but I advise you to accept it with as good a grace as you can muster, or 'twill be the worse for you."

His victim muttered something in his own language, then swore at him. Stooping, Roger grabbed him by his lace jabot, shook him violently and cursed him with great fluency for a solid two minutes. He then opened his case again, took from it two lengths of whipcord and holding them up addressed the Russian.

"Listen, you rat. Heed carefully what I am about to say, for your life hangs upon it. No doubt you have places such as this in your own country. You can judge for yourself that the temperature here is below freezing point. I have but to tie your hands and feet, gag you, and thrust you out of sight behind one of the ice-stacks at the far end of the chamber for you to die here. How like you the idea?"

The Russian's wits had now returned to him, and he muttered: "You are already in jeopardy of a hanging. To murder me would make it a certainty."

"On the contrary, Monsieur. To do as I suggest is the one method by which I can make positive beyond all doubt that your mouth will remain closed at to-morrow's inquest; and, believe me, I am much inclined to adopt it."

"You may thus escape a charge of having aided the Lady Georgina to murder her husband, but they will get you later on one of having murdered myself."

"You are wrong there, Monsieur rat. And 'tis the very essence of my plan that no one will suspect me of having had any hand in your death. Should I do as I say, you will be dead before morning, but with not a mark upon you. The gardeners come here from time to time to fetch supplies of ice for the house, but if I conceal your miserable carcass with some care 'twould remain undiscovered for many months. I plan, however, to leave Still waters after the inquest to-morrow, then to return here secretly four or five nights hence, carry your corpse into the woods and cast it into some ravine. 'Twould thaw out there during the night and when, at length, someone chances upon it there will not be a thing to show how you died. 'Twill be assumed that you decided to-night to go upon a moonlight ramble, were of a sudden taken ill, attempted a short cut back to the house, fell into a gully and there expired before your calls for help could attract attention."

Vorontzofl shivered, partly from the intense cold, partly from fear; because he knew now that he was at the mercy of a man as ruthless as himself and one who's wits had outmatched his own.

"You'll not do it, Monsieur!" he declared, but he could not keep the uncertainty out of his voice as.he hurried on. " 'Twould prove your undoing if you did. When 'tis discovered in the morning that I have disappeared the investigation into Sir Humphrey's death will be affected to your detriment. It may be thought that I have voluntarily absented myself because I am unwilling to give evidence, or even that someone has made away with me to prevent my doing so. Remember, I alone can confirm,the reason that the Lady Georgina intends to give for the sending of the note. Without the support of my testimony she may be disbelieved; and, once she becomes suspect, shrewd question­ing could easily send you both to the scaffold."

"There is something in what you say," Roger admitted, with hidden satisfaction. He was prepared to kill the Russian if he must, but the thought of committing murder in cold blood was most repellant to him; and it now appeared that his enemy was already thinking on the lines he wished; so he asked: "You are, then, prepared to buy your life?"

"It seems I must," Vorontzoff shivered again. "Tell me the price you demand quickly, so that we can get out of this accursed cold."

"I require you to write a letter to Colonel Thursby. You will begin by saying that, until to-night, to-day's tragic events had put but of your mind a meeting of the first importance which you must attend in London at midday to-morrow; therefore you cannot, after all, remain on to attend the inquest. You will go on to suggest that, instead, he should produce this letter at it; then give a full account of how Lady Etheredge and yourself planned to make an April Fool of Sir Humphrey. You will conclude by offering your apologies to the Colonel and Lady Etheredge for the early hour of your departure preventing you making your adieus to them." Roger paused for a moment, then added. "The production of that letter will support Lady Etheredge's testimony as effectively as if you had given it yourself. Do you agree to write it?"

Vorontzoff gave him a crafty look. "Do you attach any other con­ditions to restoring my complete freedom?"

"Only that you should also give me a chit for your coachman, ordering him to be ready to take you back to London at seven o'clock to-morrow morning; and an undertaking that you will set out at that hour without leaving any message behind you or having spoken to anyone at Stillwaters on the subject of Sir Humphrey's death."

"In the circumstances, Monsieur, you flatter me by placing any value on such an undertaking."

The chill of the icy atmosphere was getting into Roger's bones and he replied quickly. "Of that we will talk later; if you accept my terms?"

"I see no alternative," Vorontzoff muttered, with chattering teeth. "For God's sake let us get from this place."

"Take two of the candles in each of your hands, then," Roger told him, "and precede me down the passage. Think not of attempting to escape by dropping the lights and running off into the woods; for my legs are longer than yours and I should catch you before you had taken a dozen paces. Any trick of that kind will merely provide me with the excuse I would gladly have to give you a good thrashing."

Picking up his bag he followed the Russian to the entrance of the mound, then told him to halt there and sit down on the ground. The candles were set up out of the draught, just inside the doorway; and Roger having taken a pen, inkhorn and paper from his port­manteau, Vorontzoff used its top as a desk on which to write. In ten minutes the business was concluded. As Roger put the letter to the Colonel and the note to the coachman in his pocket he smiled to him­self; the whole matter had gone much more smoothly than he had expected.

Having collected his things he shut the door of the ice-house and walked down the slope with his prisoner to the wheelbarrow. On reach­ing it he said. "This might well have proved your Excellency's funeral coach. As it has not, you will be good enough to push it back to the shed from whence it came, which I will show you."

For a moment the Russian looked like rebelling, but on Roger giving him a vigorous push he picked up the handles of the barrow and set off with it along the path.

After they had covered a hundred yards in silence Roger remarked: "We will now talk a little about the undertaking which you have given me. As you have pointed out yourself, I have no means of pre­venting you from leaving a completely different written testimony for the chairman of to-morrow's inquiry, to the one you have just inscribed; or taking some other steps to repudiate your letter and be­tray Lady Etheredge and myself. Should you do so, have you con­sidered what the result of your act would be?"

"It would result in .the Lady Georgina and yourself providing a grim spectacle for the mob at Tyburn, one fine morning," replied Vorontzoff with an ugly laugh.

"Indeed, I think you right," agreed Roger, placidly. "At least all the odds favour such an outcome. You realise, then, that should you repudiate your letter to Colonel Thursby I must count my chance of life exceedingly slender?"

"So slender, Monsieur, that I mean to take an early opportunity of booking a window in a nearby house to see you hung."

" Twould be waste of money, since you will not be there to occupy it. We have an English proverb which fits the case to a nicety. It runs: 'Tis as well to be hung for a sheep as a lamb. Do you now per­ceive my meaning?"

Vorontzoff gave him a quick sideways glance. "You infer that if hang one must, it makes little difference if 'tis for one murder or for two."

"I am happy that your Excellency should have put so exact an interpretation on my thought. Should aught go awry at to-morrow's inquiry I shall hold you responsible. I shall have ample warning of any dangerous trend that it may take before I become suspect myself. Temporarily I may have to deprive myself of the privilege of doing what I can to protect my Lady Etheredge, but 'twill be easy for me to slip away, and get to horse without it even occurring to the sheriff's officers to detain me. Later, no doubt, the Bow Street runners will be asked to undertake my capture. There are some good men among them and they usually get their quarry in the end, I'm told. But I flatter myself that I shall be able to evade them for quite a while; and I now make you a promise. During that time, wherever you may be, I will seek you out and kill you."

The Russian knew that he was caught again. He enjoyed his life; and the prospect of having it menaced by an assassin who might spring out upon him from behind any bush or doorway for weeks, or perhaps months, to come, did not appeal to him at all. After a moment he said. "It seems that you hold all the cards, to-night, Monsieur. You may place full reliance on my undertaking and if aught goes ill in the matter of Sir Humphrey's death 'twill be through no act of mine."

"I felt sure that I had only to put the position to you frankly for you to see reason," replied Roger smoothly.

A few minutes later they reached the rambling outbuildings behind the house. Having replaced the wheelbarrow in its shed they went in by the Orangery and through the now dark suite of reception-rooms to the hall. Old Barney was sitting there polishing Georgina's new riding-boots to a mirror-like sheen. Roger slipped the chit that Voront­zoff had written for his coachman back into his hand. The Russian gave it to Barney for delivery first thing in the morning; then victor and vanquished in this midnight interview went upstairs side by side, to part with a curt "good-night" on the landing.

It was now getting on for two in the morning, but when Roger peeped into Georgina's room he saw her by her nightlight that she was not yet properly asleep. She was propped against her pillows with her eyes only half shut, so obviously dozing. The second she heard the faint noise of the door opening she started up, and after one swift look, exclaimed, " 'Tis you! Oh, God be thanked!"

"Surely you were not expecting anyone else to visit you at this hour," he smiled. "If 'tis so, to spare your blushes, I will withdraw at once."

"Oh, Roger, 'tis no time for teasing," she said reproachfully. "Tell me without delay. You—you have not killed him?"

"Nay. I have but this moment left the fellow sound in wind and limb, and on his way to bed. 'Tis all arranged, and we need fear nothing from him either to-morrow or in the future."

She sighed. "How did you work this miracle? Come; tell me all. I can scarce yet believe it possible,"

Roger perched himself on the side of her bed and gave a laughing re"sum6 of his doings since midnight. When he had done, she suddenly hid her face in her hands, and a moment later he saw that she was crying.

"What ails thee, sweetheart?" he asked her with swift concern. "Think not from the lightness of my tone that I would belittle the danger we were in. But, knowing that we had no intent to shed innocent blood, God has extended His protection to us; and given us both courage and sagacity wherewith to shield ourselves. I do assure thee that thou needest have no further fears. The worst, is over, and within a few hours now thou wilt not be called on to give another thought to this tragic business."

"Nay," she murmured. " 'Tis no longer from fear that I am cry­ing, but solely because I love thee so."

Gently he drew her hands away from her. face, then smiled into her tear-dimmed eyes. "Thou hast no cause to weep on that account; for if love be a willingness to give one's life for another, thou knowest that I would gladly give mine for thine."

"I know it; and 'tis not sorrow, but my very joy and pride in thee, that brings the tears to my eyes. Thou art the most splendid champion that any woman ever had. Dost thou remember how things were with me when I was but a little girl? How all those stupid fools of county people, whom I despise to-day, sent me to Coventry on account of my gipsy blood. Not a boy nor girl of their oafish progeny would so much as give me a 'good-morrow' when I rode past them in a lane. Thou alone hadst the spirit to ignore the ban and cheer my solitude with thy dear companionship. And now thou art grown into an audacious, determined man; and so monstrous handsome that thou couldst have any woman for the asking; yet it seems that thou still preferst me to all others, and would stick at nought to protect me from the results of my own follies. I weep from humility, to think that I am so fortunate."

He kissed her hands and smiled again. "Then weep no more, dear love; for is not my debt to thee the greater? When I was but a scared schoolboy fearful of what road to take, didst thou not make of me a man, point out the way, and give me resolution? And now; what am I but a near-penniless fellow, trained to nothing and of no position; yet thou, the loveliest lady of all England, rich, powerful, and courted by all, hast taken me for thy lover. Tis I who should be humble, as I am, that thou givest me, rather than another the right to protect thine happiness by all means in my power."

Like sunshine after an April shower, a smile came to her eyes.

"Oh, Roger, we are a sad pair; and no one will ever truly understand either of us, except the other. Dost realise that I am free to marry again now? 'Twas but yesterday that thou asked me, would I marry thee if I could? And I said nay; being then too scatter-witted to count my blessings. Ask me again and I'll give thee a different answer; for I will never know another man whom I will always honour, and at least have the desire to obey."

He shook his head. " 'Twas you who had sound sense on your side in that discussion. It arose, you will recall, while you were preparing the ground to tromperme with Vorontzoff. Before the summer is out a similar situation would arise, if not on your side then on mine. Agree­ments to disregard such things are well enough in theory; but when it comes to the point 'twill always prove that one party only has develop­ed a craving for pastures new, so the other is bound to be hurt in con­sequence. Had matters gone as you originally planned for this week­end, we would still have parted good friends; but had we been married 'twould have resulted in a most bitter quarrel. And if one decides to marry one should at least set about the business without doubts as to its lasting out the year."

"You had none of these doubts concerning Athenais de Rochambeau last summer; and would have married her out of hand, had it not been for the difference in your religions."

"Aye, I admit it. But I was younger then and somewhat moon­struck."

"You are not, then, moonstruck with myself?"

"Nay, Georgina, and I never shall be. Yet, had I any mind to marry at all, which I have not, 'tis the one fact that would induce me to sue for your hand. For, did you grant it me, I would know that I was espousing no figment of my imagination, which might later prove an empty shell; but a woman whose best qualities will always far out­weigh her very human shortcomings."

"It seems, Sir, that you are become illogical," she quizzed him. "If you would have me on that count, while yet a moment back arguing that you would not, from fear that any lapse from virtue on my part would prove too great a strain on your affectionl

Au contraire, Madame," he smiled. "I am being logical for us both. You know that in your heart of hearts; confess it now!"

She stretched and yawned, then gave a little laugh. " 'Tis so, dearest Roger. For if we did marry, and I caught you cocking your hat at a wench, I vow I'd claw her eyes out. But you'll stay on and love me through the spring, will you not? I insist upon it."

His smile became mischievous. "I'll stay on until those wicked, roving eyes of yours look favourably upon another beau—or until my own light upon some toothsome morsel of feminity."

"Beast that thou art! I do believe thou meanest to pay me back in mine own coin."

"Nay. I was but joking. My whole object will be to make thee forget this terrible affair as soon as possible." He leaned forward and kissed her lightly on the cheek. "And now, sweet, 'tis time that I should leave thee to get some sleep."

For a moment her fingers gently caressed his hair. "Thou art right. I am near exhausted by the" day's events. I only pray that all will go well in the morning."

"It will, dear heart. Have no fear of that." And with this last reassurance Roger left her.

IBs prophecy was proved correct. Vorontzoff took his departure promptly at seven o'clock. Half ah hour later Roger sent the letter that he had extracted from the Russian up to Colonel Thursby by a foot­man. A little before ten the coroner's court assembled in the library. It was composed of honest but simple folk who asked few questions and acted with all the discretion that they felt was due to the persons of quality who were concerned.

Having decorously viewed the body, they listened respectfully to Colonel Thursby's statement, and a translation that he gave them of Vorontzoff's letter. Georgina was called on to make only a brief appearance. She was dressed in black and veiled, but not so heavily that they were unable to see her lovely face. After a few tactful questions and her low-voiced replies, they offered her their deepest sympathy and she withdrew. The doctor then gave it as his opinion that Sir Humphrey had died from a seizure, brought on by intense cerebral excitement following immediately upon the abnormal exertions of his long ride; and a verdict was brought in to that effect.

Afterwards the members of the court were taken to the dining-room, where an abundance of refreshments had been provided for them, and relaxing into a restrained cheerfulness ate and drank their fill. By two o'clock, well loaded with good liquor they rode away, then* somewhat bemused minds now again centred on their individual concerns.

Roger had not appeared at any part of the proceedings. So that he should not be observed hanging anxiously about he had gone out for a ride, returning only at eleven-thirty. Shortly before midday the butler had informed him of the verdict and he had then settled down to read a book in the Orangery. Soon after the last of the visitors had clattered away a footman found him there and said: "The Colonel's compliments, Sir, and he'd be glad if you would join him in the library."

On obeying the summons, Roger found Colonel Thursby sitting behind a big mahogany desk-table, sipping a glass of Madeira. His longish, intellectual face appeared grave but showed no sign of undue worry. Motioning to the decanter and a clean glass that stood beside it, he said: "You'll have heard, no doubt, that all went smoothly and that the matter is now officially closed; but I think it well that I should put certain facts before you. Pour yourself a glass of wine, my boy, and make yourself comfortable."

With a word of thanks, Roger did as he was bid, wondering what the devil was coming now.

"As you may be aware," the Colonel began, "Sir Humphrey having died without issue, his heir is his eldest uncle, who now becomes Sir Isaiah Etheredge. I despatched a courier to him yesterday to inform him of his nephew's death, and I suggested that the funeral should take place on Wednesday. We may therefore expect him here to­morrow, or even, possibly, to-night, if curiosity moves him to seek a detailed account of the tragedy before the rest of the family arrive. He will benefit to some extent on coming into the baronetcy, but not to the degree that he would have done had Humphrey not married Georgina."

"Under her marriage settlement she retains Stillwaters for life, does she not, Sir?" Roger put in.

The Colonel nodded. "And a sufficient capital to keep it up. That will absorb the greater part of the Etheredge fortune as long as she lives; and since Sir Isaiah is a man of well over fifty 'tis unlikely that he will ever enjoy the house or the income that goes with it. The marriage settlement was exceptionally rigorous; and, by it, Georgina has secured very much more than the average widow's portion. I do not blame her for insisting on such terms, as she could have married a much richer man had she wished. On the other hand one can hardly blame Sir Isaiah and the rest of the Etheredge clan from bearing her considerable ill-will in consequence. I trust I have made the situation clear to you?"

"You have, Sir," Roger replied, much relieved to think that the Colonel had nothing more serious on his mind than some slight un­pleasantness over money matters with Georgina's in-laws.

"Then you will realise that Sir Isaiah has a very special reason for interesting himself in Georgina's affairs."

Roger looked a little puzzled. "I do not see how anything she may do can alter the situation to his advantage?"

The Colonel gave him a quick, sideways glance. "Should she announce it as her intention to re-marry quite shortly, that might do so."

"I was under the impression that she would continue to enjoy Stillwaters whether she re-married or not."

"Those are the terms of the settlement; but it was not that which I had in mind. I see that I must ask you a leading question. Are you contemplating asking Georgina for her hand?"

Roger coloured slightly. "I waited on her after dinner last night, Sir, and we discussed the question then. The conclusion we reached was that, fond as we are of one another, to embark on marriage was to risk the wrecking of our long friendship; and as we count that very precious we should be wiser to remain only friends."

"I am much relieved to hear it," said the Colonel. "Not, let me hasten to add, that I should have anything against you as a son-in-law. Far from it, I am extremely fond of you, and have a high opinion of your abilities. Georgina has ample money for you both and I am well aware of your devotion to one another; so in normal circumstances I should give the match my blessing most willingly."

"I thank you, Sir, for your good opinion of me. But if those are your sentiments, may I ask why you should be so relieved that Georgina and I have decided against marriage?"

"Because I consider that your association with her has become highly dangerous to you both; and any announcement of your intention to marry would draw Sir Isaiah's attention to it."

"I fear I don't quite follow you, Sir."

"Then it seems that I shall have to go into matters which I would have preferred to avoid." The Colonel looked at Roger squarely. "I tell you nothing that you do not already know, when I say that while Georgina is a most lovable young woman, her morals, by orthodox standards, leave much to be desired. For that, the passionate nature, she inherited with her mother's blood is partly accountable, but I am also much to blame. I emancipated her mind from the narrow outlook to which those of girls are usually confined, and brought her up to think as a man. As a man of honour, I trust, but one with a sense of values quite different from those of most of her sex. My intention, in so doing was to enable her to stand on her own feet, and get the best out of life by fighting men with their own weapons, as well as those natural to her, whenever the need should arise. I do not regret it; but I cannot disguise from myself that while my policy has, in the main, helped to create a remarkably fine personality, it has, in some respects, exposed its subject to the over-hasty judgment of others."

Having paused to take a pinch of snuff, the Colonel went on: "Since Georgina thinks like a man where her amours are concerned, she also acts like one. She goes gaily about such matters and takes little trouble to conceal them. In consequence, many people consider her to be quite unprincipled. You and I know that is not the case. Yet there are some who believe that she would stick at nothing to gain her ends; even, yes—even the murder of her husband."

Roger sat deathly still for a moment; then he said in a low voice: "Perhaps, Sir, you would care to—er—elucidate."

"Again I regret the necessity," said the Colonel, quietly. "But 'tis imperative that you should know where you stand. I ask you neither to admit or deny anything that I may suggest, but the following are certain points which could hardly help occurring to anyone in my position. Count Vorontzoff's note has been satisfactorily explained; but did he really send it at Georgina's instigation? We knew that she had grown to dislike her husband, but 'tis entirely out of character for her to play stupid practical jokes on anyone; and the last thing she would have embarked upon deliberately was any project to bring Sir Humphrey here. If she did not inspire the note why did Vorontzoff send it? And why did they both say yesterday that they had planned this Fool Day joke' between them? Was that collusion, brought about through a mutual urge to prevent certain unpalatable facts emerging at the inquiry? In any case there is no getting away from the contents of the note. Its gist was that if Sir Humphrey at once got to horse he would catch Georgina with a lover in her room. If she did inspire that note she was expecting her husband in the early hours of Sunday morning, so would certainly have seen to it that she had no lover with her then. But was she really alone when Sir Humphrey burst in upon her? I do not think so; and I will tell you why. I was present when his body was examined by the doctor. It had a large purple bruise just below the heart."

With his eyes fixed on the carpet, Roger strove to fight down the agitation he was feeling, as the level voice continued.

"The bruise was just such a one as might have been made by a fist striking a hard blow—a harder blow than any Georgina could have struck. But if it came to light that such a blow was delivered in her presence, the fact that she has concealed this attack upon her husband, which doubtless contributed to his death, would be taken as proof that she was concerned in it—and she will be judged equally guilty with his attacker."

White to the lips, Roger suddenly looked up. "I beg you, Sir, in­form me of the worst? Does anyone else suspect. ..."

The Colonel shook his head. "I trust not. Fortunately I was able to provide a plausible theory to account for the bruise. I remarked that it was probably the result of a fall; and that Sir Humphrey might easily have had one the previous afternoon, as he was known to have ridden a dangerous horse in the Goodwood point-to-point. The doctor's mind being entirely free from suspicion, he accepted that explanation and made no reference to it in his evidence."

Knowing that the Colonel would never betray Georgina, Roger gave a great sigh of relief. "You comfort me mightily, Sir; for it seems that all is well."

"Nay. I fear we cannot consider ourselves out of the wood, as yet. From ancient times motive and opportunity have oft alone been enough to cause suspicious minds, to probe, unearth the truth and exact a fatal penalty. That you have been, and are, Georgina's lover, she has never sought to conceal from me; and,- unfortunately, owing to her casual disregard of the most elementary precautions, at least half-a-dozen of the servants here must have good reason to suspect it. If it comes to Sir Isaiah's knowledge that Georgina did have a lover staying in the house, he mightbegin to play with the idea that she had encompassed her husband's death because she wished to share Still-waters openly with her paramour."

Roger paled again. "You mean, Sir, that if Sir Isaiah once becomes suspicious he will leave no stone unturned which might lead to Geor­gina's conviction; since, could he but bring about her death, he would, after all, come into Stillwaters and the bulk of the Etheredge money?"

The Colonel finished his wine. "That is the nightmare possibility which has haunted me for the past twenty-four hours. Yet by a simple precaution it can be reduced to an unlikely chance. I refer to the elimination of the motive. If you do not share Stillwaters with Georgina, either as her husband or her lover, why should anyone suspect that Sir Humphrey was the victim of a crime?"

"You feel then, Sir, that I should leave at once?"

"I do; now that the inquest is over. I would have suggested your leaving before, had I not thought your presence in the house essential to support Georgina through her recent ordeal. But if you are not gone before Sir Isaiah makes his appearance, he will naturally wonder why you should have remained on after the other guests departed. He would start questioning the servants about you, and that might prove the beginning of the end."

"I see the sense in what you say, Sir," Roger said slowly, "and will act ujpon it without delay. But I fear Georgina may take my going hard.'

"I've not a doubt of that. So I will break the matter to her while you make your preparations for departure. I need hardly add that the less you see of one another for the next twelve months the better."

Roger nodded. " 'Twould be best if I sought some employment abroad."

"That would be wise. I also plan to take Georgina out of England until talk concerning her husband's death has died down. She has often expressed a wish to see Constantinople, so I may take her there, and on a tour through the Balkan lands. Business affairs will prevent my setting out for some six or seven weeks to come; but the less you are seen about the less people will talk of your having been so much in Georgina's company this past winter, and the fact that you made one of the house-party here the weekend that the tragedy occurred. So I hope that you will arrange to make your exit from the scene as soon as possible."

"I will expedite my departure by every means in my power, Sir," said Roger, standing up. "Should aught occur in the next few days I beg you let me know. I shall be staying with Lord Edward at Amesbury House. In the last event the responsibility is mine, and I am prepared to face it."

"If need be I will come to town and call upon you; but I trust that will not prove necessary." A kindly smile lit the Colonel's lean face, as he added: "Had I been in your situation I should have done as you did, my boy; so let it not lie too heavy on your conscience."

An hour later Roger was with Georgina in her boudoir. She had changed back into the grey dress that she had worn the night before, but she was looking very mournful. For the past ten minutes they had been discussing the recent conversations that they had each had with her father. Both agreed that, reluctant as they were to part, Colonel Thursby's reasons for their doing so brooked no argument.

"Let us not prolong the agony, dear heart," Roger smiled, after they had said all there was to say. "Wish me luck with one of your long kisses, then I'll go seek my fortune once again."

"Bide but a moment," she replied. "I have something here that I wish to show you."

Going over to a lacquer cabinet she unlocked it, produced a large morocco-leather box, and opening that upon a table displayed a magnificent diamond tiara; then she asked him: "What think you this would fetch?"

"I have no idea," he shrugged. "But at a guess I would say that it must have cost not less than two thousand pounds."

" 'Twas Humphrey's wedding-present to me; so 'tis not an heir­loom, and mine to do with as I wish. If it cost so much it will easily pay your debt to Droopy Ned, and furnish you with a few hundreds over for your journey. Take it, I beg."

"Nay, I'll not rob thee ..." he began, but Georgina placed a soft hand over his mouth.

"Dearest Roger," she reasoned gently. "Thou knowest well enough that I have many jewels and will scarce miss this bauble. Doest thou not remember on thy going away as a boy, how, to finance thee, I parted with the half of my girlish trinkets. I am offering thee far less than half, to-day. That debt must be paid, and thou hast beggared thyself in buying gifts for me. Add not to my present burden the misery of knowing thee to be in sore straits for money. Give me, instead, at least the joy of sponsoring thy departure as I did before; so that I may count it an omen that thou wilt come back to me safe and sound a second time."

"So be it, sweet," he murmured. "I've no words to thank thee, but thou knowest what is in my heart." "Aye! Keep it faithful to me, dear one."

"I will do better; for the heart is fickle; but no woman can usurp the throne thou wilt ever occupy in my mind."

"And thou in mine, dear Roger. Indeed, I meant it so. We may take our pleasure where we list, but neither time nor distance nor other loves, can tarnish the sweet mental bond that unites us two."

For over a minute they were locked in a tight embrace, each vying with the other to give all that they could of themselves in a last linger­ing kiss. Then he left her; and as the door closed behind him he wonder­ed miserably if another four long years must pass before he would know the joy of holding her in his arms again.

CHAPTER VII

YOUNG MR. PITT

WHEN Roger reached London he went straight to the Marquess of Amesbury's mansion in Arlington Street. In those times most of the great nobles still kept open house for their family and friends, who were expected to stay a few nights or a few weeks, just as it suited them. As Roger had no pied-a-terreof his own in London Droopy^ Ned had insisted on his accepting the freedom of the house, and had instructed his father's major-domo that Roger was always to be given accom­modation.

On this occasion, having come up from Stillwaters only the day before, Droopy was still in residence; and Roger found him upstairs in his own suite, amusing himself by re-arranging some of his collection of antique jewellery in a shallow, glass-topped miniature table.

After admiring his friend's most recent purchases Roger produced Georgina's tiara and asked him what he thought it would fetch. Droopy peered at it with his short-sighted pale-blue eyes, then examined the larger stones through a jeweller's lens, and said: " 'Tis the type of thing on which the trade makes a good profit, since its worth lies rather in its decorative effect than its intrinsic value. I doubt if a goldsmith would give you a thousand for it, but I think I could place it in Hatton Garden for twelve-fifty."

"I'd be mightily obliged if you would," Roger said. "I plan to go abroad again, and the balance of nine-hundred, or so, will keep me in funds for quite a while."

Droopy knew all about Roger's hectic love affair with Georgina, but he was much too tactful to inquire the reason for this sudden decision. Instead he asked: "To what part of the continent do you intend to travel?"

"I've no idea as yet," Roger admitted. "But you'll remember that last November, Mr. Pitt offered me employment in some form of foreign service. I mean to write and remind him of his promise, and see if he can suggest something for me."

They supped together and talked afterwards for an hour or so on the tragedy at Stillwaters and other matters; then Roger went to his room and wrote the letter. In it he begged for an early interview, making it plain that he wished to leave England as soon as possible; and the letter was despatched by hand to Downing Street first thing the following morning.

Two days elapsed without his receiving any reply, so on Thursday afternoon he wrote again; but by Saturday evening he had still not received even an acknowledgment of either of his letters.

As he was now becoming worried at the delay he consulted Droopy, who said: "If you wish a swift decision your best plan would be to beard Mr. Pitt in his den. Why not ride down to Holwood Hill, his place near Hayes, in Kent, to-morrow. 'Tis certain you'll find him there, as 'tis a Sunday."

On Roger demurring at the idea of breaking in on the great man Droopy shrugged his narrow shoulders. "Be not so modest, my friend. Since you served him by going to Holland on his behalf in a con­fidential capacity, I'll warrant that he'll afford you a courteous re­ception."

So after breakfast next day Roger mounted his horse and set off. It took him some time to ride through the narrow, crowded streets of London, thick with swarms of church-goers dressed in their Sunday best; but the going was easier after the first mile of the Old Kent

Road. At New Cross he turned south, through the pleasant suburb of Lewisham, and so out into the open country. A few miles south of the village of Bromley he inquired for the Prime Minister's house, and ten minutes later was riding up the drive.

This small estate of Holwood Hill was, as Pitt had remarked himself, "a most beautiful spot, wanting nothing but a house fit to live in," but, even so, it possessed quite a sizeable mansion. He had bought it three years before, mainly on account of its gardens, the improve­ment of which gave him much delight; and because he had a special fondness for the country round about, having been born and brought up on another property nearby.

At the door Roger inquired for Mr. Pitt, stating that his business was confidential. The footman asked him to wait in the hall, and after a few minutes, returned to say that Mr. Pitt would see him; then took him through the house and out into the garden.

The young Prime Minister was in his shirtsleeves, planting a small magnolia, and seated near him in a wicker chair was an exceptionally delicate-looking man of about the same age. At Roger's approach Pitt looked up, and his long, austere face broke into a smile as he said: "Why, Mr. Brook, 'tis a pleasure to see you again. I thought you had quite forgotten me."

"On the contrary, Sir," Roger bowed. "I have written you twice in the past week, and receiving no reply made so bold as to break in upon your privacy; for which I do most humbly apologise."

"Ah, me!" Pitt shook his head drolly. "I fear I am the laziest of men where dealing with my correspondence is concerned. To my shame I confess that few who write me ever get an answer. In fact, as most of my letters are bills, I've long since given up even opening the demmed things." With a wave of his hand towards his companion, he added: "You know William Wilberforce, of course."

Roger bowed again, to the frail man, whose fine eyes and head made such a contrast to his puny frame.

Wilberforce had been Pitt's contemporary at Cambridge, and had later become his closest personal friend. As the member for Hull, Wilberforce had been one of the staunchest supporters of Pitt's first administration, and during those difficult times the two had been almost inseparable; spending most of their evenings at Goostree's Club, which had been founded by Pitt's friends in opposition to Brooks, and their week-ends at Wilberforce's house on Wimbledon Common, where Pitt had a room always kept ready for him. In '84-'85 Wilberforce had made a long tour abroad, and returned from it with a resolution to lead henceforth a strictly religious life, so in recent years he had withdrawn somewhat from party politics to give more of his time to social reform. His first efforts had been in the direction of amending the criminal law and the suppression of blasphemous and indecent publications; but, only a few months earlier, while seated meditating one day under an oak in Holwood Park, he had come to a definite decision; to devote the rest of his life to the abolition of the Slave Trade.

Although only twenty-eight he had, like his illustrious friend, long been a national figure, so, as Roger bowed, he said: "Mr. Wilberforce's moving eloquence and good works are alike well known to me."

"I thank you, Sir." Wilberforce inclined his head, "f pray you forgive my rising, but since January I have been the victim of a most vicious illness; and am here to-day only to make my adieus to Mr. Pitt before leaving for Bath in the hope of deriving some benefit from its waters."

Pitt gave him an anxious look. "I trust that the fatigue you have sustained in coming here will not affect you adversely."

"Nay. I had to come; and your assurance that you will bring the first measure forward during the next session, should I be unable to do so, are better medicine than any with which a doctor could provide me.

Feeling that he might have interrupted a discussion on political business, Roger said: "Gentlemen, I fear my arrival is inopportune. Permit me to retire and walk a while in these lovely grounds, until a more appropriate moment."

With a wave of his slender hand Pitt dismissed the suggestion. "Our business is finished, and alas, Mr. Wilberforce is only awaiting his carriage to carry him back to Wimbledon." Then turning to his sick friend he added: "Since 'twas I who first persuaded you that par­liamentary action would be far more efficacious against the slave traders than any appeal to the sentiment of the nation, 'tis but fair that I should champion the cause in your absence."

" 'Twill add to your difficulties, and bring much odium on you from certain quarters," Wilberforce said frankly.

"I know it. The City of London has never cared for aught save to keep its purse well lined. The merchants of Bristol and Liverpool will raise the devil; and the planters in the sugar-isles will allege that such measures must bring ruin to the nation. But the cause is just; so be of good cheer. I count our first measure as good as already carried."

"Ah, Billy." Wilberforce shook his head a little dubiously. "You were always an optimist. You said the very same in eighty-five, before you brought forward your Bill for winning the friendship of the Irish, and once and for all eliminating the grounds for their centuries-old grievances against us. And you were up against the same thing there; the inherent greed of the British merchants and the middle-classes, mobilised against you by such news sheets as the Morning Chronicle."

Pitt shrugged. " 'Twas, I suppose, too much to expect that such folk could yet have absorbed Adam Smith's great doctrine, that States which throw down their customs barriers become effectually part of the same body, and both benefit in consequence. Look at the admir­able effect our recent Commercial Treaty with France is already having. Yet Ireland is nearer, and should be dearer to us. 'Twas my fondest ambition to make the two countries one, and it rankles with me still that my plan was brought to nought by the greed and self-interest of a small minority in our midst."

"Were not the Irish much to blame themselves, Sir?" Roger hazarded. "As I recall it, your generous offer to open our markets freely to their goods would have assured them a great increase of wealth, from the fact that their labour is so much cheaper than ours; yet they boggled over your one condition, that they should assist in their own defence by making a modest annual contribution to the up­keep of the Royal Navy."

"You are right, Mr. Brook, in that certain meaner spirits fastened upon the point; and that the Bill was thrown out in the Dublin Parlia­ment after having passed its first reading at Westminster. Grattan and Flood there, and Burke and Sheridan here, all most shortsightedly opposed these measures which I so earnestly desired to bring about for the benefit of their own country. Yet the real cause of my defeat, was the determination of powerful factions in both Kingdoms to wreck my proposals, by representing each concession made to the sister-island as an injury or insult to the other."

" 'Tis true," Wilberforce agreed. " 'Twas Fox and his friends who whipped up the commercial interests against you, by a campaign of slander and misrepresentation, waged in both countries with a vigour worthy of a better cause. I pray that the same may not be the case. ..."

He broke off as he caught sight of a servant approaching from the house to announce that his carriage was now in readiness.

"Have no fears on that score; and think only of getting well again," Pitt admonished him, as he tenderly helped him to his feet. "The question of Abolition is solely a humanitarian one, and we know already that on this great issue Fox and Burke are both with us."

"Aye; and The Lord!" cried Wilberforce, with shining eyes."For are not the poor negroes His children every wit as much as ourselves? May His blessing be upon you in all things, Billy; and on you, Mr. Brook." '

With a word of thanks Roger offered his arm and assisted Pitt to support the invalid to his carriage. When he was settled comfortably in it the farewells were said, and at an easy pace it drove away. As the other two stood looking after it, Pitt said:

"Now there goes a true Saint; for so great-hearted is he that even the worst of sinners feels no awkwardness in his company. But come, Mr. Brook, let us return to the garden. I crave your indulgence to finish planting my tree; but, if, meanwhile, you will tell me to what I owe the pleasure of this visit, I vow to you that I shall not lose a single word of your discourse."

" 'Tis soon told, Sir. Last November, after my return from Holland, you were good enough to say that you might be able to find me some employment of a confidential nature, which would necessitate travel­ling abroad."

"I remember the occasion perfectly; and, you were then so eager for it, I find it surprising that you have not applied to me before."

The statement implied a question; and Roger had already learned that to win and hold the Prime Minister's esteem one must be frank, brief and to the point; so he said: "I had meant to approach you sooner, but I got caught up in a love-affair."

Pitt looked at him curiously. "The early twenties are the years when the foundations of great careers are laid. I had judged you too ambitious to sacrifice six months at this period of your life to such a purpose, however bright the lady's eyes."

" 'Twas worth it," said Roger simply.

"Since you can say that with such conviction you must be right, and I'll confess to envying you." Pitt smiled. "You see, I have never had a love-affair. 'Tis not that the fair sex lacks attraction for me, but that, somehow, on such occasions as I have felt the inclination, I have never been able to give the time to following the matter up."

"Your loss has been the nation's gain, Sir."

"You are kind to put it so, rather than to chide me with sacrificing the humanities to my ambitions. But reverting to yourself. I recall the details of our conversation now, and realise that your half-year's cessation from worldly striving is not out of keeping with your char­acter. You are intolerant of discipline, and have no desire for public office or to make a career for yourself in one of the Services. Your ambition is rather to indulge your tastes for travel and the society of cultured people; but to do that in comfort you need a greater income than the three hundred a year your father gives you. The assets you have to offer are a good presence, a ready tongue and pen, fluent Latin and French, some Greek and a smattering of German; a specialised knowledge of French foreign policy and the affairs of the Dutch Netherlands; sufficient industry to have held an arduous secretarial post and sufficient courage to wield a pretty blade effectively. Am I right?"

"Apart from the fact that in some respects you flatter me, Sir, I marvel at the excellence of your memory."

They had reached the little tree, and Roger held it steady while Pitt completed the filling-in of the earth" about its roots, as he went on thoughtfully: "The thing I had in mind for you was a somewhat nebulous post as my personal agent on the continent. Her Majesty's diplomatic representatives are, on the whole, a very able body of men; but their facilities for obtaining information are limited to what they can pick up themselves and what their paid spies can obtain for them. In the first case they are at a natural disadvantage from their obvious connection with the Court of St. James, and in the second, the type of person they employ, while well enough for counting the number of ships ready for war in a potential enemy's dockyard, are rarely of the social status to probe out diplomatic secrets at a foreign court."

"You propose that I should become a professional spy," Roger said bluntly.

"Yes. Does the idea offend you?"

Roger considered for a moment. The idea of a gentleman soiling his hands with such work was entirely against the canons of the age. On the other hand the offer would enable him to lead the type of life he desired, unfettered by any routine drudgery or subservience to a possibly uncongenial master.

Seeing his hesitation, Pitt added: "After our last interview I made inquiries about you, and learned that, quite apart from your spec­tacular coup concerning French intentions in the United Provinces, your father had already placed you in touch with our collator of secret information, Mr. Gilbert Maxwell; and that you had sent him valuable data regarding both the new fortifications at Cherbourg and Monsieur de la Peyrouse's expedition to New Zealand. Since you did so without instructions from anybody, why should you not continue such activities, but to a far more useful tune from receiving guidance as to the matters about which it is most urgent that we should know?"

"I acted spontaneously in the first instance, and later refused all payment for my small services; whereas your proposal, Sir, would place me on a very different footing."

"True. Yet it is clear that you possess both the ability and temper­ament to serve your country in this manner. If you were a young man of fortune I would ask you to do so out of patriotism, and I've little doubt but that you would agree. As you are not, I merely propose to make good the deficiency to an extent which would enable you to cut a decent figure at the foreign Courts; since unless you can do that, you are likely to be of little value to me."

Roger smiled. "Your arguments are well designed to dissipate my scruples, Sir."

"Let me clinch the matter then, by saying that, can you but un­cover to us once every few years secrets as valuable as that which you brought home last autumn, I shall count you no less an asset to the nation than a regiment of foot or a ninety-four gun ship."

"Then I am your man, and will do my damnedest to deserve your good opinion of me."

The tree was planted and the earth around it well stamped down. Pitt was perspiring slightly, for he was far from strong and any phy­sical exertion soon took its toll of him. As he mopped his high forehead he said: "Let us return to the house and take a glass of Shrub after our exertions. Then I will outline to you my views on the foreign policy that Britain should pursue. You'll stay to dinner, of course?"

"You are most kind, Sir," Roger replied, and as they walked back across the grass he marvelled that anyone could regard the tall, thin Prime Minister as cold, aloof and boorish.

It was true that, being a born aristocrat, he counted the applause or scorn of the mob as of so little moment that when he drove through the streets he kept his head held superciliously high, and would not even vouchsafe a nod to his most ardent supporters. It was also true that, as a child and youth, his extreme precocity had debarred him from enjoying the society of young people of his own age, so that he had never succeeded in overcoming a certain awkwardness of manner in mixed company. His major fault, if fault it was, but also his greatest strength, lay in his unquestioning belief that he alone was capable of guiding Britain's destinies to her best advantage. At the early age of seven, on learning that his great father had been raised to the Peerage, he had declared that "he was glad that he was not the eldest son, but that he would still be able to serve his country in the House of Commons like papa"; and this superb self-confidence, mistaken by lesser men for vanity, had earned him many enemies. But he was by nature kindly, tolerant and generous; and in the scant leisure that he allowed himself for relaxation he made a charming host and most stimulating companion.

Over the spiral-stemmed glasses of their orange-flavoured cordial Pitt made his beliefs and ambitions clear.

"Mr. Brook," he said. "I have never subscribed to the doctrine that wars are a necessary evil. In every age they have brought famine, desolation, pestilence and death to the common people, whose only desire is to be left to till their land and go about their usual avocations in peace. That the rulers and nobility of the stronger nations have, in the past, profited by waging war upon their weaker neighbours, I will admit. To them has gone the captured lands and the loot of de­spoiled cities; but the era in which war offered, even to the upper classes, something of the mixed attractions of a bloody gamble and a glorified hunt, has gone for ever.

"With the passage of time each succeeding European convulsion has resulted in a more thorough mobilisation of the resources of the countries involved. In medieval times the feudal lords went out to battle taking only their personal retainers and a modest percentage of their serfs; agriculture and commerce were able to continue almost undisturbed. To-day matters are very different. A nation at war soon becomes affected in all its parts and the strain of conflict eats so deeply into its vitals that whether it emerge as victor or van­quished it is still a loser. With the growth of industrialism, and our dependence on foreign markets for raw materials and supplies, this tendency must continue to increase; until a war of only a few years' duration between two great nations will suffice to bring starvation and bankruptcy to both. Therefore, we must seek by every means in our power, short of bowing our necks to a foreign yoke, to avoid wars in the future. And more; wherever we can, by offers of mediation or threats of intervention, seek to prevent hostilities breaking out be­tween other nations."

" 'Tis a great conception, Sir; and no one could dispute the sound­ness of your reasoning," Roger agreed.

"Time," Pitt went on, "is the governing factor in all diplomacy designed to prevent war. 'Tis sudden, unexpected moves, leading to ill-considered counter moves, that inflame the tempers of nations and result in armed hostilities. Given early intelligence of the secret in­tentions of a foreign power there is time to consider matters calmly, and exercise a restraining influence before the potential aggressor feels that he has gone so far that he cannot turn back without loss of face. 'Tis the province of the Foreign Department to procure for us that information, but as it oft lies hid in the cabinets of Kings 'tis far from easy to come by. Your province, then, will be to supplement their efforts in special cases. But I pray you, from this moment on, to carry engraved upon your heart the prime object which will apply to all your journeyings. Information upon military matters, internal affairs, the dispositions of high personages, and Court intrigues, will always be of value; but you should not expose yourself to risk in order to obtain any of these things. Your task is to ferret out for me such secret ambitions of the sovereigns and their advisors, as might jeopardise the peace of Europe; and, wherever you are able, to advise me on such measures as you feel would assist in the preservation of a balance of power, so that steps can be taken in time to prevent these ambitions leading to an outbreak of hostilities."

Roger made a little grimace. "I am most sensible of the compli­ment you pay me, Sir, in charging me with so great an undertaking; but I fear you rate my powers over-high."

"Nay, Mr. Brook, I am the best judge of that. Last summer you made no small contribution to saving us from a war, on this same principle that a stitch in time saves nine. The country is still in your debt on that account; so if our Secret Service funds become the poorer by a thousand guineas, from maintaining you for some months in St. Petersburg without result, you'll have no cause to blame yourself but may count it as a holiday already earned."

"St. Petersburg!"

"Yes. 'Tis there that I have it in mind to send you; for Russia now provides the greatest enigma in the European scene. Let us briefly review it, and you will see why I should choose the Court of the Czarina Catherine, rather than another, for your first foray."

Pitt refilled the glasses and went on quietly. "When I first took office Britain was entirely isolated. Every power in Europe that counted had been but recently either in active war or armed neutrality against us. The major threat to our survival still seemed to come from France and she, through the strong influence of Queen Marie Antoinette, was firmly allied to Austria. In view of Frederick the Great's inherent animus against Austria it seemed that Prussia should be our natural ally, so I made appropriate overtures to 'old sour mug,' as his own Berliners termed him. He was already half-senile, and he allowed his secret hatred of England to weigh more with him than his best interests, so he flouted me; but time has removed him from my path."

"And his successor has proved more amenable," Roger interjected. "Yes. Some wit once remarked that Frederick the Great had the wisdom of Solomon and that his nephew resembled that potentate only in respect to his overflowing harem; but, be that as it may, Frederick Wilhelm II has at least had the sense to allow himself to be persuaded by his far-seeing minister Count Hertzberg, and our own minister Mr. Ewart, of the value of an alliance with us. So we may eliminate Prussia from our anxieties."

"The Dutch also, since the events of last autumn."

Pitt nodded. "The United Provinces were within an ace of becoming provinces of France, but our timely intervention has re-established the Stadtholder firmly in control of his subjects; and both he and his Prussian wife are staunch friends to England. So we need have no fears of a Dutch fleet burning our shipping in the Medway. As for France, she was forced to eat humble-pie as a result of that affair, and, in my view, has not only shot her bolt for the moment, but is now well on the way to becoming our good friend."

"You really think so, Sir?"

"I do. The growth of resistance to the Royal authority, during the past half-year, has been such that I believe France incapable of waging another war until some radical change has taken place in her form of Government. But, even then, I see no reason why our age old enmity should be resumed. The Commercial Treaty is working wondrous well. You must have seen for yourself how French fashions, French foods and French literature have been all the rage here this past winter; and I'm told that in France, to be in the mode these days one must have everything 'A l'Anglaise?"

Roger shook his head. "'Tis not for me to gainsay you, Sir; but I'd attach little weight to such superficial matters. As I see it the crux of the matter lies in the fact that the population of France is more than double ours; yet 'tis we who have now secured to ourselves Canada and India, and, by our control of the seas, first footing in the great new lands that Captain Cook discovered in the Southern Hemisphere. The French maintain that they must have living-room to expand, and Colonial markets for their goods, or perish. 'Tis on that count I fear that we shall yet be called on to face another bloody war with them."

"Mayhap I am over optimistic," Pitt smiled. " 'Tis certain that our Foreign Secretary, my Lord Carmarthen, would agree with you. He vows that I will never succeed in my ambitions to make our new friendship with the French a permanency. But in that he is much influenced by Sir James Harris, whose hatred of the French is near a mania."

"He has reason enough for that, seeing the years he spent fighting their intrigues while Minister at the Hague," Roger remarked. "But for his determination-and fine fearless handling of the Dutch our cause would have been lost; and during my brief time there I formed a great admiration for him."

"Then it will please you to hear that he should be joining us within the hour. Sir James, Harry Dundas and my Lord Carmarthen are all driving down from town to dine here to-day."

"Indeed!" Roger exclaimed; and he could not keep a faint note of surprise out of his voice, as it was public knowledge that the Prime Minister and Sir James Harris were on far from good terms.

"I read your thought, Mr Brook," Pitt laughed. "You are wonder­ing why I should receive Sir James privately when, as member for Christchurch, he has so often and so bitterly opposed me in the House. But I do not count that against him. It arises, I am convinced, not from hatred of myself, but from a great personal loyalty that he feels towards Mr. Fox, born of their youthful friendship. Fox, Harris and William Eden formed a brilliant trio at Merton in their Oxford days, and ever since have stood firmly together in their politics. Yet I would think shame of myself did I neglect to employ the two latter on that account, seeing that they are both outstanding among our diplomats. 'Twas Eden, you will recall) that I sent to Paris to arrange the Commercial Treaty; and although it was the Rockingham ministry that nominated Harris for the Hague I confirmed him in the appoint­ment as soon as I came to office. But let us return to our survey of Europe. We were speaking of France, were we not?"

"You were saying, Sir, that you had no fears of war with that country."

"Not for some years to come, at all events. Nor do I fear it with Spain, since she is now reduced to dependence on France, and would not act alone. Nor Austria. The sweeping reforms that the Emperor Joseph II has carried out in his wide-spread dominions have well earned him the title of 'the crowned revolutionist,' but he is paying a heavy price for them. The Magyars, Belgians, and various others of his subject-peoples are in constant revolt against his innovations; so, having now entered the war against the Turks as the ally of Russia, his hands are overfull already. Russia remains then at the present time the only country having the power, and possibly the will, to be plotting a new war of aggression which might set all Europe ablaze."

"As you have just remarked, she is already at war with the Grand Turk."

"And we are supporting him in secret with supplies and money."

"Yet not so long ago we allowed the Russian fleet to refit and victual in our British ports, on its way to attack him in the Mediterranean."

"That was agreed to in the hope of securing Catherine's friendship. But it proved a mistaken policy, since she still withholds it and it re­sulted in the Russians securing bases for themselves in the Greek Islands. They are, too, now firmly established in Genoa, owing to the complaisancy of the Grand Duke of Tuscany. 'Tis these footholds they have secured in the Mediterranean that are one of my causes for alarm, and I wish you to attempt to ascertain how far it is their inten­tion to extend them."

"In the event of war the Russian Fleet would prove no match for the British, so we should be able to cut them off there."

"True; but no fleet can have its major strength in two places at the same time, and in a crisis it might be necessary to retain the bulk of ours in northern waters. Moreover, it is the Czarina's possible ambitions in northern Europe which fill me with far graver concern. We are now supporting the Turk in the hope of keeping her fully occupied against him; but her resources are so vast that one cannot rule out the possibility of her launching another campaign, perhaps against the remnant that is left of Poland, perhaps against the Swedes in their Finnish territories. 'Tis of such designs as she may harbour in secret for further expanding her empire westward that I am anxious to learn; and how we might dissuade her from them, or in the last event, take steps to check the aggrandisement of Russia before she becomes a serious menace to the whole European family."

Roger nodded. "I take your meaning, Sir; and will do my utmost to procure you a few useful pointers, if no more. Is it your wish that I should report to you direct or send such data as I can gather to Mr. Gilbert Maxwell?"

"I prefer that you should write direct. Take your letters to Mr. Alleyne Fitzherbert at the British Embassy, and he will arrange for their safe despatch; but see to it that you give them to the Ambassador personally, as it is undesirable that any members of his staff should know that you are in correspondence with me."

"There are certain objections to such a procedure if I carry out a plan which is already forming in my mind. It seems that I should have a better prospect of becoming privy to the Empress's intentions if I appear at her court as a subject of that nation she so much admires, and term myself Monsieur le Chevalier de Breuc. I passed as a native of the half-German province of Alsace while I was in France, so I should have no difficulty in doing so in Russia. But the British Ambassador would be unlikely to cultivate the acquaintance of a Frenchman of no particular distinction, and in my case it would bring most unwel­come suspicion on me if he did; so I'd prefer to have no dealings with him."

Pitt's long face broke into a grin. " 'Tis clear, Monsieur le Chevalier, that you have a natural flair for this work, and that I was right to count upon you. As regards our method of communication we will consult Sir James Harris. Previous to his appointment to the Hague he was our representative at the Czarina's court for some five years, so he should be able to suggest a way out of our difficulty. We'll discuss it over dinner."

"May I submit that the fewer people who are made aware that I am to act as your secret agent, the better," said Roger earnestly.

"I'll not gainsay you there, Mr. Brook. But you may rely on the discretion of the men who are to dine with us, and I have a personal reason for wishing them to be informed of the work you are about to undertake. From my childhood I have been of a frail constitution, and I fear that my life will not be a long one. When I went to Cambridge, at the age of fourteen, my doctors recommended me to fortify myself with port. A brace of tumblers of that generous wine, taken before addressing the House, undoubtedly stimulates my powers of oratory; yet I can hardly think that it will add to my longevity. If I am fated to die before my ambitions for this great nation come to fruition, others, thank God, will now carry on my policies; Dundas and Car­marthen among them; so 'tis as well that they should be aware of your activities in order that they may continue to employ you should a sudden illness remove me from the scene."

"I sincerely trust that no such dire event will rob the country of your leadership," Roger said in quick concern.

The Prime Minister shrugged his narrow shoulders. "With God's grace I'll have a few years yet, and I pray you put the matter from your mind."

He then went on to talk about the ambitions of the Czarina and the numerous wars she had already launched in her reign; the leading part she had played in the partitioning of Poland in 1771, her annex­ation of the Crimea, and the new war that she had launched against Turkey the preceding August. That February Austria had come in with Russia, and it was believed that Gustavus III of Sweden had signed a secret treaty promising to support the Turks. Pitt was speculating whether the Swedish King would really dare to take up the cudgels against his powerful neighbour, when Lord Carmarthen and Sir James Harris were announced.

The two friends were a good-looking pair. The Marquis was still only in his late thirties and the younger by some five years; he was also slimmer in build and dressed in quieter taste. He was an amiable person with pleasing manners, but inclined to be capricious and vain. As the eldest son of the Duke of Leeds and Lady Mary Godolphin, he was able to exert considerable political influence, but it was not this alone which had decided Pitt to offer him the Foreign Secretaryship in his first administration. The young Prime Minister had been attract­ed to him by his honesty and the way in which he had lost no oppor­tunity of attacking corruption and waste on the part of the previous Governments.

Sir James Harris, with his brilliant eyes and bold, handsome face, was a much more flamboyant personality. On entering the Diplomatic service he had been sent as secretary to. the Embassy in Madrid. In the summer of 1770, his seniors having all gone on leave during the great heats, he found himself temporarily acting in the role of Chargé d'Affaires. At this juncture he learned that the Spaniards were secretly fitting out an expedition in Buenos Aires for the capture of the Falkland Islands. Although only aged twenty-four he took so high a tone with the Spanish Prime Minister that the attempt was abandoned. This spirited act had gained him swift promotion; at twenty-six he was sent as Minister to Berlin, at thirty-one as Ambassador to St. Petersburg, and at thirty-seven, having retired to amuse himself with politics, he had been persuaded to re-enter the diplomatic arena at the Hague, then the danger-spot of Europe; and there, with his audacity, courage and genius for intrigue, had created and matured a counter-revolution in the interests of Britain.

Lord Carmarthen was a stranger to Roger, but Harris hardly waited for them to be introduced before clapping him on the shoulder, and recalling the festivities in which they had shared the previous October when Prince William V of Orange was happily restored to authority in his own capital.

Roger inquired after the Princess, who had treated him with special kindness, and Harris gave a jovial laugh. "So you fell a victim to her, too, eh! Well, I don't wonder. She's a monstrous fine woman, and those gay blue eyes of hers near made me forget her exalted station more than once. And where we'd have been without her high courage I know not. I left her in good health, but chafing as ever at being tied to that miserable weakling of a husband who makes so plaguey poor a showing as Stadtholder."

" Tis a strange coincidence," remarked Carmarthen, "that there should be so close a similarity between the rulers of the Dutch Nether­lands and those of France. In both cases' the men are poor vacillating creatures, while the women are not only beautiful and high-spirited but possess the forceful personalities fitted to the wearing of a crown."

"Is there aught fresh out of France?" Pitt inquired.

"Nay, nothing of moment. The Parliament of Paris is still striving to force the King to surrender his right of issuing Lettres de Cachet; and the Provincial Parliaments are, as usual, at loggerheads with the Royal authorities on a score of matters. His Grace of Dorset has just gone on leave, but Mr. Hailes wrote me this week, that notwithstanding the very extraordinary advantages with which the last loan was offered it is now below par, so confidence in the Government is clearly declin­ing still further."

For a time they talked of the troubles of the French monarchy, then Henry Dundas joined them.

He was a big raw-boned Scot, who possessed little refinement or literary taste, but had enormous political sagacity and was indefatigably industrious. Coming from a well-known Scottish legal family, he had rapidly made his way up in that profession to become solicitor-general for Scotland at the age of twenty-four. As a speaker, although steady and logical, he was rated poor; but he was a tower of strength at Westminster, since he not only ruled the blocof Scottish members with a rod of iron, but also controlled the election of the Scottish representative Peers. This was in part due to the fact he had pushed a Bill through Parliament by which Scottish estates forfeited after the Jacobite rising of '45 had been restored to their owners. So powerful was he north of the Tweed that he was known as Harry the Ninth of Scotland. In Pitt's administration he still occupied the com­paratively minor post of Treasurer of the Navy, but in recent years the Prime Minister had tended more and more to treat him as his prin­cipal lieutenant; and by having made him a member of the new Board of Control for India, had opened the way for him to dominate it, so that he had soon become, in all but name, the ruler of that great country. He was now forty-six years of age; he drank like a fish and swore like a trooper.

Shortly after his arrival, dinner was announced, and over it their quick minds led them to comment on and dismiss a vast variety of subjects. Roger, with becoming modesty, said little, except when directly addressed, until towards the end of the meal. Harris brought up the subject of Sir Humphrey Etheredge's tragic death as the result of an All Fools' Day joke, which had been the talk of the town during the proceeding week. He had had the story from his friend Charles Fox and, glancing at Roger, said: "If my memory serves me, Mr. Brook, Charles mentioned that you were of the company at Stillwaters when the fatality occurred."

Roger was at once pressed by the others to give a first-hand account of the affair, and he did so as casually as he could. When he had done, Dundas remarked in his rich Scots accent: "Weel! 'Tis an ill wind that blows nae man any guid. By this Isaiah Etheredge becomes a bonny Baronet; though he'll no be aware of it for many a week yet to come."

"Why say you that, Sir?" asked Roger.

"Because, Sir, I know him ta ha’ taken ship for Jamaica a se'n-night before the tragedy," came the prompt answer. "He has a wee bit of a plantation there, and was of the opeenion that by a visit he might screw a few more bawbees out of his factor."

To Roger these were the most excellent tidings. During the past week he had heard nothing from Stillwaters, and although he had endeavoured to take comfort from the old adage that "no news is good news," he had felt a constant anxiety lest Sir Isaiah should nose out something during his visit. Now it was clear that the new Baronet could not have attended his nephew's funeral, and better still, would not be back in England for several months to come, by which time the whole business would be ancient history. It was a minute or more before Roger realised to the full the strain that he had been living under and the magnitude of the relief that Dundas's casual words had brought him. By keeping their- heads he and Georgina had escaped the awful fate that had threatened them. The affair could now be considered as closed, and he could go abroad free of all worry that she might yet be overtaken by Nemesis.

As Roger brought his thoughts back to his present surroundings he realised that the port hadbeen put on the table, the servants had left the room, and that Pitt was telling his friends of his project for endeavouring to ascertain the Czarina's secret intentions.

Harry Dundas swigged back his first glass of port and grinned at Roger. "If ye're the man ye look, Mr. Brook, ye'll no regret this enterprise. The Russian men are fine hard drinkers, arid the women as free with their charms as any young laird could wish, so I'm told."

Carmarthen offered Roger his snuff-box and said: "Indeed, Sir, I wish you all the pleasures that Mr. Dundas implies, but also a more solid success. From the very nature of their position our diplomatic representatives are often prevented from learning facts not meant for their ears, which are yet almost common talk at the courts to which they are accredited. With so pleasing a presence and address as you possess, if you convey the impression that you are but an idle fellow travelling for pleasure you may well "secure for us information of considerable value."

"You have taken my very thought, Francis," nodded Pitt, as Roger murmured his thanks for the compliment paid him, and the Foreign Secretary went on:

"As the Prime Minister may have told you, he does not share my belief that the French continue to bear us malice for the past, and out of jealousy will, when they have found a solution to their internal troubles, become a serious menace to us again. His optimism may be justified, but I feel that we should at least leave nothing undone to guard ourselves against such a contingency."

"Hear! Hear!" exclaimed Harris heartily.

" 'Tis for that reason," Carmarthen continued, "that I am most anxious to regain Russia's friendship, and that of Austria as well. England was Russia's first friend when she emerged from her own * borders, and until quite recent times we enjoyed the traditional good-will of the Court of Vienna. Yet, during the late war we lost both, and instead they now look to France as the protector of their interests in Western Europe. By the new Triple Alliance we have bound Prussia and the United Provinces to us, and are in a fair way to add Sweden and the Turk to our bloc. Yet I would willingly sacrifice the two latter, could we but regain Russia and Austria, and thus isolate France."

"I too would welcome a rapprochement with the two Imperial powers," declared Pitt, "but not from the project of isolating France, and thus driving her into renewed suspicion and enmity. Rather we should strive to'win the goodwill of all. 'Tis not by secret pacts aimed at individual nations that we shall ever secure a lasting peace, but by sound commercial treaties which need cause fear to none."

"You agree though, Billy, that Mr. Brook should send us such data as he can which might assist in our gaining Russia as an ally?"

. "I do. Yet seeing that James Harris, here, and Alleyne Fitzherbert have both failed in that, I see little hope that Mr. Brook will be able to furnish us with anything to act upon. 'Twould be unreasonable to ask him to seek for a goodwill in the existence of which none of us have the least cause to believe. His function, rather, as I see it, will be to inform us as far as possible regarding Russia's intentions in the north, in order that we may take such steps as we can to put a check on her further aggrandisement."

Carmarthen then took the opportunity to press Pitt into agreeing that, as a gesture of goodwill to Russia, her fleet, which was fitting out in the Gulf of Finland, should again be allowed the freedom of the British ports on its voyage round to the Ionian Sea; and this led to a discussion on the role of Austria, as Russia's ally in her war against the Turks. Dundas joined in with his usual vigour,' leaving Harris and Roger, who were seated side by side, temporarily out of the con­versation.

The thoughts of both the latter were still on St. Petersburg and, after a few minutes the ex-ambassador said: "I wish you better fortune in your mission to the Venice of the North, than I had in mine.. Tis a fine city and the Russians, although crafty and unreliable, are a gay and hospitable folk. I soon took their measure and would I think, in time, have succeeded in pinning them down; but I confess that the Czarina bested me. She is as slippery as an eel, and never seemed to tire of lending a favourable ear to my arguments, while all the time she was secretly planning to embarrass us in our war with the French, by forming the League of Armed Neutrality and leading it against us. I take it you are acquainted with her history?"

Roger shook his head. "I fear I know little very about her except that she was the daughter of a petty German Prince, and, having married the heir apparent to the Russian throne, deposed him by a successful conspiracy some six months after he had ascended it as Peter III. That was before I was born, and for the past quarter of a century she has continued to occupy the throne herself, apparently illegally, as her son is long past his majority and should be seated on it as the Emperor Paul."

"That is so. She was the daughter of Prince Christian of Anhalt-Zerbst-Dornburg; and her husband was also a German Princeling. His father was only a Duke of Holstein-Gottorp, but his mother, Anne, was the elder daughter of Peter the Great. It was her younger sister who became the Empress Elizabeth. She had many lovers but never married, so in due course, she selected her nephew, the little Holstein-Gottorp, as her heir, and had him brought to Petersburg at the age of fourteen. Three years later she picked Catherine, who was then sixteen, for him as a wife. He had the ill-luck to contract the smallpox just before the wedding, and it left him hideously disfigured. Added to which his parts were tied, and since he funked a small operation it was several years before he was able to consummate the marriage."

"How prodigious strange," remarked Roger, "that Marie Antoinette should have found herself in exactly the same case with Louis XVI. 'Twas eight years, I'm told, before he would bring himself to face a nick with a knife so that they could lie together."

" 'Twas a year or so more than that for Katinka."

"Such a situation must have been a sore trial for both Princesses."

"Mightily so," Harris agreed, "since through no fault of their own they became the mock of their courts from failing to produce heirs; and one could scarce blame either for consoling themselves with a lover.. 'Tis averred that the fair Austrian kept her virtue; but the beautiful little German succumbed to the blandishments of her husband's Chamberlain, a fellow named Soltikof, about a year before her spouse succeeded in co-habiting with her. By that time she had long since lost any affection she may ever have had for the boorish, pock-marked

Peter, but his having shared her bed at least saved her from any question being raised as to the legitimacy of her only son, Paul Petrovitch, who was born in October '54."

"The man who should be Czar is now thirty-four, then?"

"He is. But I'd give long odds against his ever ascending the throne while his mother is alive."

"How old is she now?"

"Nearly sixty; and for the past twenty-six years she has been the most powerful woman in the world. The Empress Elizabeth, after a long illness during, which she was drunk the greater part of the time, died early in '62. Peter succeeded her but reigned only six months, then Catherine deposed him and he died in mysterious circumstances a week or so later. Technically she assumed power as regent for her infant son, but she soon forgot that convenient fiction. Meanwhile, Soltikof had become only a memory of the past. Poniatowski, whom she afterwards made King of Poland, succeeded him in her affections; then Gregory Orlof, who arrested her husband for her during the coup d'etat. Since then she has taken scores of lovers, so she is well named the Semiramis of the North. In her youth and prime she was a great beauty and of a most lively disposition, so must have proved a fine bedfellow for many a lusty young gallant, but I pity the poor devils whose duty it is to tumble her now."

"What! She has lovers still!"

"Aye," Harris nodded. "Though she be fat, grey and toothless, I'm told she shows no decline in that respect. And an invitation from the Empress is. a command."

" 'Tis unnatural," Roger declared.

"Unusual, would be the more suitable word," commented Harris quietly. "And, believe me, little Katinka is an unusual—nay, a remark­able—woman. So arbitrary, violent and licentious has been her private life that she may well go down to history as a second Messalina; yet she is far more highly cultured and intelligent than any other monarch of our age. She is not merely absolute in theory but makes her auto­cratic power felt in every department of the State. In her own hand she recodified and modernised the whole of Russia's laws. She has colonised great empty spaces of her Empire with poor but hardworking Teutons, and has founded innumerable schools. She selects her own rnilitary commanders and lays down their objectives for each cam­paign. Her Foreign Minister is merely a cipher, for 'tis she who furnishes all her diplomats with their instructions. Despite these herculean labours she finds ample time to indulge her love of pleasure, and to carry on a vast correspondence concerning art and literature with such men as Voltaire, Diderot and d'Alembert. In her private relationships she is as capricious as a nighty minx of eighteen; yet her mind as so well balanced when it turns to affairs of State that she never allows her per­sonal prejudices to interfere with her judgment. In her love for Russia she has become more Russian than the Russians; and at her order the most powerful army, in the world will march east, south or west as she may choose to direct it."

Harris paused for a moment, then added: "I trust that what I have said may have given you some conception of the real greatness of the wicked little old woman whose hand you may soon be privileged to kiss."

"It has indeed," Roger said thoughtfully. "And you would make me still further your debtor if, before I leave, I might consult you on various aspects of my mission."

"I had been about to suggest placing my small experience of life at the Court of Petersburg at your disposal. Would it suit you to dine with me at Brook's on Tuesday?"

"I'd be honoured, Sir; and more than grateful to you for your guidance."

Seeing that they had finished their semi-private conversation, Pitt leaned forward and said to Roger: "Have you spoken to Sir James with regard to some method of sending me your despatches privately?"

Before Roger could reply Harris did so for him. "We are meeting again next week, Sir, and I already have in mind a sound channel for that. There is, however, the, er—question of funds. My mission to Russia cost me twenty thousand pounds of my private fortune over and above my emoluments as Ambassador, and I should not like to think that Mr. Brook is to be out of pocket to even a twentieth of that amount."

"Nor I," laughed Pitt, and Carmarthen smiled affably across the table, as he said: "If you will be good enough to wait upon me at the Foreign Office, Mr. Brook, I will arrange both funds and passage for you."

The conversation then again became general until, at half-past eight, they left the table and the guests prepared to go back to London.

As Roger, now full of good port and inward excitement at the new prospects which the day had opened to him, was about to mount his horse, Pitt and Dundas warmly wished him every good fortune. Carmarthen and Harris he was to see again, so as they got into their carriage they only waved him a cheerful "good-night."

The carriage bowled swiftly down the drive, and as it passed out of the gates with Roger a hundred yards ahead, Carmarthen asked his friend: "What think you are the prospects of that young man's mission having profitable results?"

"None," answered Harris bluntly.

"Why so, Jimmy?" yawned his Lordship. "I thought him a like­able fellow; modest yet not slow to answer when addressed, and of good intelligence."

"He is all of that, and a man to mark; for he will, I believe, go far. But not in this."

"What reason have you for your pessimism?"

"The venue of the mission he has been given; and Billy Pitt is at fault in that. Having ever lived aloof from the world himself he still remains completely oblivious to the fact that other human beings are made of flesh and blood. Had it been otherwise he would have had more sense than to send this lad to Petersburg. We must afford him all the help we can, but he will fail there for a certainty."

"Why should he have a greater chance of success in any other capital?"

Harris gave a short, hard laugh. "Because, my friend, I will eat my Order of the Bath if, after one look at his fine figure and bonny blue eyes, that old bitch of an Empress does not order him to her bed. And I do not think young Mr. Brook will stand for that."

CHAPTER VIII

THE BAL MASQUE

O N April the 17th Roger landed at Copenhagen. It had been Sir James Harris's idea that an oblique approach to St. Petersburg would offer advantages not to be obtained by a direct descent upon it. The wily diplomat had pointed out that while Roger's plan of passing himself off as a Frenchman in the Russian capital was basically sound, he would be greatly handicapped if he arrived there with neither back­ground nor introductions; whereas if he spent a few weeks in Den­mark and Sweden on his way, he should be able to establish his new personality while in those countries, and later enter Russia adequately sponsored by friends that he had made while in the Scandinavian capitals.

It had transpired that the first available ship was sailing from Edinburgh about the 20th of the month, so Roger had had ample time to go down to Lymington and spend a few days with his mother before taking coach for the north. This visit to his home had also enabled him to have several additional conferences with Sir James, as the diplomat was about to be elevated to the peerage under the title of Baron Malmesbury for his part in bringing about the Triple Alliance; and, as member for Christchurch, he wished to secure the support of his constituents in the coming bye-election for his party's nominee. In consequence, two days after their dinner at Brook's, they travelled down into Hamp­shire together, and Roger had benefitted by much sage advice about his mission.

Quite apart from Sir James's great prestige in his own service he had most valuable personal relationships with other leading figures in it. His wife had been a Miss Amyand, and her sister had married Sir Gilbert Elliot, whose youngest sister was the wife of William Eden, the negotiator of the recent commercial treaty with France, and whose younger brother, Hugh, was now minister at Copenhagen. It had therefore been decided that no one could be better fitted to launch Roger into the Baltic scene than Mr. Hugh Elliot, and Sir James had furnished him with a letter for that purpose. He had also given him a letter for the Reverend William Tooke, the chaplain to the trading factory in St. Petersburg, where all cargoes of British goods shipped to the port were warehoused before being distributed. Sir James had described the clergyman as a shrewd, discreet fellow, long resident in Russia and possessing an encyclopaedic knowledge of Russian affairs. It was to him that Roger was to give his despatches, as he was admir­ably situated to pass them on to Mr. Alleyne Fitzherbert for trans­mission by Embassy bag to London.

While sailing up the Sound towards Copenhagen, through waters alive with shipping, Roger had been pleasantly impressed with the fertile, undulating country, studded with fine private houses set in well-wooded picturesque parks; and on landing he was similarly impressed by the Danish capital. Sixty years before it had been almost totally destroyed by a great fire, so all its principal buildings were com­paratively modern, and it had a much more spacious air than any other city that he had so far visited.

Roger had travelled from Edinburgh as Monsieur le Chevalier de Breuc, and The Silver Hart having been recommended to him as the best inn at which to put up, he went straight to it and took rooms there in that name. As soon as he was settled into them he wrote a note in French to Mr. Elliot, simply saying that he had a letter for him from Sir James Harris and would be glad to know when it would be convenient to deliver it. The same evening a reply came back that the Minister would be happy to receive him at eleven o'clock the following morning.

Next day therefore he hired a horse and rode out to Christiansholm, the residential suburb in which the British Legation was situated, and found it to be a small but very beautiful villa. Immediately he was alone with Mr. Elliot he disclosed the fact that he was an English­man and presented his credentials. Then, as the Minister gave him a quiet smile and settled down to peruse them, Roger had ample oppor­tunity to study him at leisure and think over the outline of his history, which had been supplied by Sir James.

Hugh Elliot hailed from Minto in Roxburghshire and was the second son of a Scottish Baronet. He was educated for the Army but, owing to his father's friendship with Lord Suffolk, the Foreign Secretary of. the day, had, without being consulted by either, been appointed His Brittanic Majesty's Minister to the Elector of Bavaria, at the age of twenty-one. After a tour of duty in the charming and easy-going city of Munich he had been transferred at twenty-five to the much less agreeable but far more important post of Berlin. Here he fell in love with and married the beautiful Fraulein von Krauth, only to learn a few years later that she was deceiving him. At this juncture he had just been transferred to Copenhagen, and his romance ended by his secretly returning to Berlin to kidnap his own little daughter in the middle of the night, fighting a successful duel with his young wife's lover, and then divorcing her.

He was a rather frail-looking, fair-haired, blue-eyed Scot, now thirty-six years of age. Roger thought he looked considerably older, but attri­buted that to the tragic failure of his marriage.

Having finished reading the letter Hugh Elliot said: "I will willingly serve you in any way I can, Mr. Brook, but your having appeared here in the guise of a Frenchman makes it somewhat difficult for me to do so openly. For example, it would not be de rigueurfor me to present anyone not having British nationality, at the Danish Court."

Roger bowed. "I am aware of that, Sir, and the last thing I would wish to do is to prove an embarrassment to you. However, Sir James suggested that you might perhaps be able to arrange an occasion when I could meet the French Minister here, casually. My story is that I am a native of Strasbourg, but have been living with relatives in England for the past six months; so that while I am lacking in introductions from my own countrymen, friends in London were good enough to give me a letter of introduction to yourself."

"That sounds like a typical James Harris ruse," smiled Elliot. "He would reason that once I have brought you into contact with Monsieur le Baron la Houze, you will only have to make yourself pleasant to him, for him to offer, quite spontaneously, to present you himself; then you will be launched every bit as much under the French aegis in Denmark" as though you had arrived here with your pockets stuffed full of letters from Versailles."

"That was the idea, Sir," Roger grinned back.

"Regard the matter as arranged then. I'll not ask Monsieur le Baron here to meet you, as that might appear a shade too pointed. But he is certain to be at Count Bernstorff's soireenext Tuesday so you shall accompany me to that. Now, in what other way can I be of assistance to you?"

"If I did not fear to trespass on your good nature I would ask if you could spare an evening to put me au courantwith the politics of the Scandinavian Kingdoms vis-a-vis Russia."

"I will do so with pleasure. As I lead a bachelor existence 'tis my custom to spend most Sundays with my good friends the Reventlows; but I can easily excuse myself to-morrow, and if you will dine with me we can have a long talk afterwards."

"Please don't let me interfere ..." Roger began.

The Minister waved the polite hesitation aside. "Believe me, Mr. Brook, 'tis mere selfishness out of my eagerness to hear the latest gossip from London, that makes me seek so early an opportunity to talk with you at leisure. I'll be your debtor for giving me your company to-morrow. How long do you plan to remain with us in Copenhagen?"

"In that, Sir, I should value your guidance. My mission is of so nebulous a character that any reasonable delay in my reaching the Russian capital may well be compensated for, if during it, I acquire a better knowledge of how to interpret such allusions to future policy as I may pick up when I am once established there. Yet I am naturally eager to reach my destination and set about the business on which I have been sent."

"I agree that a good understanding of the background against which you are to work should prove of great value to you; and I will give you a verbal survey of the Danish court to-morrow. I think too, that either through Monsieur la Houze or some other agency we must arrange for your presentation, so that you can see the leading person­ages here for yourself. But once you have made your bow there will be little point in your lingering here. Denmark now pursues a policy of strict neutrality, so Copenhagen has become something of a back­water and you would be more likely to learn of matters to your advan­tage in Stockholm."

A servant now appeared with a pot of hot chocolate, and over it they talked of lighter matters for a quarter of an hour, then Roger took his leave.

He spent the rest of the day wandering about the Danish capital, and found to his relief that language presented no barriers to his enjoyment. All the better class of people whom he addressed, as also the shopkeepers and hackney-coachmen, spoke either fluent French or German; and he soon learned that few of the nobility even under­stood Danish, as it was then considered by them to be only the bar­barous tongue of churls.

The Royal Palace of Christiansborg appeared to him vast in com­parison with the smallness of the city, but such churches as he visited proved disappointing. Since the Reformation the Danes had adopted the strictest form of Calvinism, so their places of worship were bleakly puritanical. Such people of quality as he saw were richly dressed in the French fashion, but the bulk of the citizens wore sober black, and the tattered garments of the poorer people led him to judge that, as in France, the wealth of the country was most unevenly distributed. The food that was served to him at his own Inn he found excellent, as, although plain, it was beautifully fresh and included a greater number of fish-dishes than he had seen before on one table.

On the Sunday the entire city assumed an air of intense sobriety. Every shop was shuttered, the cries of the street-vendors were stilled, and amusements of every kind were strictly prohibited. In con­sequence, he was glad when the time came for mm to ride out again to Christiansholm. The air was crisp, but now that May had almost come a brave sun heightened the tender green of the gardens that he passed, and brought out the rich colours of their flowers.

At the Legation the tall, blue-eyed Scot received him kindly and they sat down to dinner a deux. Once more Roger noted the profusion of fish-dishes, including a delicious cold salmon; and, on his commenting on it, his host told him that, as Norway formed part of the Danish dominions, such salmon were to be had all through the season in Copenhagen for a few pence.

After they had dined, instead of remaining at table, they took their wine into the library and settled themselves comfortably at a table in a bay-window which had a lovely view across the garden to the Sound, where an armada of small yachts was rocking gently at anchor in Sabbath quiet.

Having filled Roger's glass, Hugh Elliot said: "Now to business. To give you a picture of the people who control the destinies of Denmark I must go some way back. You will, no doubt, have noted the strictness with which Sunday is kept here. Well, 'tis a feast-day now to what it was when King Frederick V ascended the throne in 1746. Before his time the Court lived in almost unrelieved gloom, on week­days as well as on the Sabbath, but he altered that, for the nobility at least. He was one of the most dissolute monarchs that ever lived, and was hardly surpassed in his excesses by his contemporary Louis XV. The Reformed Church here naturally regarded him as its worst enemy, but the Danish Kings are absolute. They have no Parliament, and neither the nobility nor the clergy has any legal means of opposing their wishes—so their word is law. In consequence King Frederick emancipated his upper-classes from their hair-shirts; and ever since his time the court has been to some extent lax in its morals, whereas the bulk of the people have continued to lead outwardly the most puritanical lives. Apart from his debaucheries he was by no means a bad King, and with the aid of his very able Prime Minister, Count Bernstorff, he brought a moderate prosperity to Denmark."

"That would be the uncle of the present Prime Minister, would it not?" Roger asked.

"Yes. And the nephew is as gifted as the uncle. Frederick V married twice. His first wife was Louisa the daughter of our King George II, and by her he had two children, Christian VII, the present ruler of Denmark, and Sophia Magdalena, who is now the wife of King Gustavus III of Sweden. For his second wife Frederick, in an evil hour, took Juliana Maria, the daughter of the Duke of Brunswick-Wolfcnbuttel. He died in 1776, and from that time this cunning, ambitious and ruth­less German Princess has been the curse of the Royal House of Denmark."

" 'Tis she who is known as the Queen-Dowager, I take it."

Elliot nodded. "The root of the trouble lies in the fact that she also had a son, Prince Frederick, and has never ceased her scheming to place him on the throne instead of his elder half-brother, Christian. She is, to the life, the wicked step-mother of fiction, and during Christian's minority treated him with the utmost brutality. 'Tis said that she attempted to poison him, but, be that as it may, she certainly starved and beat him; denied him all proper education, and instead, by surrounding him with the most dissolute companions at an early age completely debauched him. In fact, she took every step she could devise to wreck his health so that he should die, or, failing that,, grow up totally unfitted to be a ruler."

" 'Tis to her treatment that his madness can be attributed, then?"

"Undoubtedly. And she endeavoured to have him set aside on that account, in order that her own, stupid, deformed, horse-faced son, Frederick, could mount the throne. But in that she failed, since opposing interests in the Royal Council maintained that Christian was not mad enough to be deposed."

"What form does his madness take?"

"The type of senseless and often violent pranks that one would expect from a warped and undeveloped brain. He is totally lacking in all dignity, or even cleanliness; guzzles his food like a pig and gives way to ungovernable tempers. He can converse with some degree of sly sense, but uses the most disgusting language, and his moods are entirely unpredictable. In the middle of a royal banquet he is quite liable suddenly to begin amusing himself by throwing the crockery at one of his guests, and 'tis no joke to be so picked upon, for his aim is uncannily accurate. He has defaced every statue and painting in the palace by throwing things at them, and often of a morning breaks two or three dozen panes of glass in the windows by casting the same number of pebbles at them from fifty paces."

"So 'twas to such a creature that King George's youngest sister was sent as a bride!" Roger interjected with disgust.

"Yes. Poor little Caroline Matilda was scarce fifteen when she arrived here from England to be his Queen, but she soon grew to be a very lovely woman. She was unusually tall with the fairest of fair hair, a complexion of milk and roses, fine white teeth and large, expressive blue eyes. All Denmark fell in love with her, except, of course, Juliana Maria; whose hatred of the young sovereigns was intensified to fever pitch when Caroline Matilda gave Christian an heir—the present Crown Prince Frederick—thus forming a second obstacle to his step-uncle Frederick ever ascending the throne. As that ill-favoured youth was cordially disliked, Caroline Matilda's popularity knew no bounds for a year or two after the birth of her son; but it then began to suffer a sharp decline."

Roger smiled. "Is this where the famous—or perhaps I should say infamous—Dr. Struensee enters upon the scene?" "You know the story?" Elliot asked.

"Only vaguely, as these events occurred some eighteen or nineteen years ago. I pray you continue the narrative."

"Struensee, then, was not only a bold, handsome fellow, and a devil with the women, but an extremely able German doctor and a political thinker of no small merit. After Christian's son was born it was decided that the monarch should go abroad to see something of foreign courts. With him he took Count Holcke the most vicious of his favourites, and Dr. Struensee. They visited the Hague, London and Paris, spend­ing some months in each; and in each the King indulged in the lowest forms of depravity. Holcke encouraged him in that and often took him straight from, official receptions to sailors' brothels in Amsterdam or down to the stews in Wapping. Struensee was too shrewd a man to interfere with the King's pleasures, but it seems that he possessed the power of (timing him during his fits of violence, and making him be­have with reasonable restraint when in decent company. Moreover by the use of drugs he relieved the King's headaches and eased his insomnia. By these means he made himself indispensable to his royal patient, so by the time they returned to Denmark Struensee had re­placed Count Holcke and become prime favourite.

"From that point Struensee's rise to power was meteoric. You must remember that here the King is absolute, with no check of any kind upon his authority. He has but to sign a paper to alter the law, increase taxation, double or disband his army, and cause any of his subjects either to receive the highest honour, or to be tortured and put to death without trial. For Struensee, providing he kept the King amused with bawdy books and semi-drugged, it was easy to get the royal signature to any measure he desired. In the space of a few months he had banished all the old ministers and become himself the absolute ruler of Denmark."

"And the Queen's lover," added Roger.

"Yes. Although in fairness it must be said that she went more than halfway to meet him. But, with such a husband, who can blame her? Christian's excesses on his tour had completed what those of his youth had began, and rendered him practically impotent; in addition he had given the unfortunate young woman a clap. The Herr Doktorcured her of it and took her husband's place. Their liaison might have continued for years, bringing prolonged happiness to them both, had not Struensee's political reforms earned him many enemies, and the open flaunting of the fact that they were living together provided the Queen Dowager with a lever for their undoing."

"What type of political reforms did he initiate?"

"Many of them were excellent. He abolished torture in the prisons, gave freedom to the press, and ordained that whenever it was sought to inflict the penalties on a woman for loose living, her seducer must be named in court and share her punishment if she was found guilty. You can imagine how this last aroused against him the hatred of the many mealy-mouthed hypocrites among the Calvinist burghers and clergy. 'Twas no longer safe for them to force their poor little serving-wenches in a corner, then later, when they were found to be with child, turn them on to the streets while lifting their own hands to Heaven in pious horror.

"But the measure which brought him the greatest degree of unpopularity was the freeing of the serfs from their bondage. Up to Struensee's time the peasants were the property of the nobles on whose estates they were born, and bound by law to remain on those estates as vassals from birth to death. He gave them their freedom, but the result proved almost disastrous for Denmark. These wretched, un­couth, brutalised creatures left the land and swarmed into the towns by the thousand. The fields remained uncultivated, which led to a severe famine, and the towns became subject to riots and rapine at the hands of starving mobs."

"Yet his reforms seem to have been in keeping with the spirit of the age."

"They were. His mistake was in pushing them through too quickly, and without due preparation or thought for their possible consequences. In the meantime Caroline Matilda had taken the bit between her teeth. She was still only twenty-two and with all the headstrong folly of youth gloried in her adultery. She encouraged the ladies of her court to follow her example in taking a lover, and turned the Palace into a haunt of Bacchanalian revelry. Still worse, as far as her public reputation was concerned, she took to painting her face, and when she went out hunting, wore leather small-clothes and rode astride like a man."

"I see no great wickedness in the last."

Elliot laughed. "If you think of Denmark as England in Oliver Cromwell's time you would, my friend. The townsfolk knew little of what went on inside the Palace, but when they saw her in such guise, they straightway were filled with righteous indignation, and abjured her as the Great Whore of Babylon. Unfortunately too, the chase was her passion; and for each of her three hunts, stag, hare and hawk, she made her courtiers wear a different uniform; light blue and silver for the first, green and bronze for the second, and crimson and gold for the third. Imagine the effect of parading such gay extravagance four or five days a week before the sober Danish burghers. Christian squandered a quarter of a million pounds on drink and women during his year abroad, but his subjects remained unaware of that; whereas they could see Matilda enjoying herself, and hated her for it."

"What of the King, though? Since he is not entirely mad, did he make no protest at having both his wife and his Kingdom taken from him?"

"They let him continue to attend all the Court entertainments and used to take him out to hunt with them, but no one was allowed to speak to him without permission; and Struensee employed a Count Brandt to sleep in the King's anti-chamber and act as his keeper. At least, I should have said the anti-chamber of Struensee's old room, for he had taken over the King's apartments for himself and put Christian into his on the excuse of preventing him from having access to Matilda, so that she should not be subject to his fits of violence. That was Struensee's crowning folly; since when the young Queen gave birth to a daughter in the summer of '71 everybody knew that he must be the child's father."

"Did the end come swiftly, then?"

"Nay, not for another six months. In secret Juliana Maria had been gathering all Struensee's most bitter enemies about her, and she selected Count Rantzau to take the lead in a conspiracy, the theoretical object of which was to restore the King's liberty. Actually, of course, seeing that Struensee had been able to rule through him she meant to keep him captive and replace the Doctor by her son, Frederick, in the role of Regent. On the 16th of January '72 there was a court ball. Brandt was lured away from his post to spend the night with his mistress. In his- absence Count Rantzau succeeded in penetrating to Christian's chamber and persuading him to sign an order for the arrest of Struensee and the Queen. In the early hours of the morning both were apprehended. Struensee was taken to the town-citadel and Matilda was sent to the castle of Cronenburg. They never saw one another again."

Roger sighed. "Despite their guilt I cannot but feel sorry for them."

"I have more sympathy for her than him," Elliot rejoined slowly. "She behaved with splendid courage throughout and defied her enemies to the end, whereas he played the part of a poltroon. 'Tis true that they put him to the rack, but even so, his confession gave many salacious details of his intercourse with the Queen such as could not have been invented by his examiners, and showed by its tone that he had done his utmost to obtain leniency for himself by sacrificing her. Of course, it availed him nothing and he was executed with Count Brandt, who made a courageous end, whereas Struensee had to be dragged to the block."

"And the Queen?"

"She was divorced, and Juliana exerted all the influence she could command to have her executed for treason; but my predecessor here, Colonel Sir Robert Murray Keith, threatened the Danes that Britain would go to war if she were harmed, and His Majesty rewarded his firmness by conferring on him the red ribbon of the Bath. Three English men-of-war were dispatched to convey her to King George's Hanover­ian dominions, and she lived in retirement in the castle of Zell there until her death three years later."

"So the Queen Dowager triumphed in the end?"

Elliot smiled. "For twelve years she realised her ambitions. At the time of Matilda's divorce the Crown Prince was barely four years of age. During his minority Juliana Maria ruled through her loutish son, with her creature Guldberg as Prime Minister; but a just fate has dispossessed her of power in the end. The little Crown Prince Frederick grew up to loathe his uncle and step-grandmother, and he developed into a boy of great promise and resolution. While still quite young he entered into a secret correspondence with the exiled Count Bernstorff and between them they plotted a coup d'etat.Juliana Maria delayed his confirmation as long as possible, but when it had taken place he could no longer be denied a seat in the Privy Council. On his first appearance there, although only fifteen, he forced his imbecile father to sign a document empowering him to act as Regent, and to the effect that the King's signature should no longer be valid unless counter­signed by himself. His uncle and Guldberg were completely taken by surprise and found their power snatched from them before they could do a thing to prevent it."

Roger smiled. "What an amazing feat, for a boy of that age to have carried through a bloodless revolution."

"It was indeed; but 'twas touch and go for a few days. I had been en postehere for two years then. I immediately offered the young Prince my support, and as there were several English ships in the harbour at the time nothing would have pleased me better than to lead their crews into action against the supporters of the Queen Dowager. But 'twas unnecessary. Juliana Maria and her son were so stunned that they lost all power of initiative. Count Bernstorff was recalled and the Crown Prince became King in all but name. That was four years ago this month, and poor Caroline Matilda's son shows every sign of con­tinuing to be a wise and talented ruler."

" 'Tis a fascinating story," Roger declared. "And I shall look for­ward now with even greater interest to seeing some of the actors in it."

For the rest of the evening they talked of other matters, and when Roger left it was arranged that Hugh Elliot should call for him at his inn on Tuesday evening, to take him to the Prime Minister's soiree.

At the soireeeverything went according to plan. Monsieur le Chevalier de Breucwas duly presented to Monsieur le Baron la Houze, a charming and polished diplomat. They talked of Paris at some length and Roger said that he had spent a year there after completing his education at Strasbourg. He was able to speak with truth of his friend­ship with the Abbé de Talleyrand-Perigord, the Vicomte de la Tour d'Auvergne, and the Comte de Choiseul-Goumer, whom he knew to be still the French Ambassador at Constantinople, and he inferred that he had more than an acquaintance with the Baron de Breteuil, the Due de Polignac, and other members of Queen Marie Antoinette's intimate circle. La Houze was as favourably impressed by Roger's delightful manners as by his admirable connections, and within ten minutes of their having met, offered to present him at the Saturday evening drawing-room.

Four evenings later Roger accompanied his new friend to the Christiansborg Palace. It seemed even vaster inside than out, and the few score of courtiers and ladies present appeared almost lost in the huge reception-hall; but several great wood-fires gave the place a cheer­ful atmosphere, and the etiquette of the small court was not so rigidly formal as to prevent the Danes from obviously taking pleasure in the function.

The French Minister duly presented Roger to the half-mad King, who was now thirty-eight years of age but looked considerably older. He was a puny, sly-eyed creature and much embarrassed Roger by digging him in the ribs and asking him several extremely indecent personal questions; but Count Bernstorff drew His Majesty's attention away from the visitor and the King spent most of the remainder of the evening sitting on the floor playing with his dog.

His son, the young Crown Prince, proved a most pleasing contrast and held Roger for some twenty minutes in intelligent conversation. He was then presented to the sinister Queen Dowager, her awkward, horse-faced son, and several other notabilities. Hugh Elliot was there and introduced him to the Count and Countess Reventlow, who invited him to accompany the British Minister to their house next day; and a number of other people he met asked him to call upon them.

Having achieved his first objective of establishing himself as a young French nobleman, travelling for pleasure through the northern capitals, he returned to his inn highly satisfied. Then the following morning he once more rode through the sabbath quiet of the city streets to the wooded parks of Christiansholm, and spent some very pleasant hours at the Reventlow mansion, as one of a charming family circle of about a dozen people.

When the party broke up it was still light, as the long evenings of the northern summer were already beginning; and Elliot suggested that Roger should ride back with him as far as the Legation. After going at an easy canter through the park, on the grass of which the big trees were now casting fantastically elongated shadows, the diplomat reined his horse in to a walk, and as Roger followed suit, said to him:

"I took this opportunity for a word with you, because it is unlikely that my interest in a young Frenchman would normally lead me to entertain him privately more than once; and now that you are known to la Houze I shall not invite you again, for fear of arousing his sus­picions that you are not, after all, quite what you seem. Tell me, now, is there any further way in which I can be of service to you, or do you feel that you have got what you can from Denmark?"

"I could doubtless learn many things of interest from a prolonged stay, Sir, but little of moment by remaining for a fortnight," Roger replied. "So I feel that I ought to go on my way as soon as I can decently do so. Numerous persons of the court were kind enough last night to ask me to call upon them, and la Houze has bidden me to sup with him on Wednesday. I therefore plan to busy myself socially these next few days, and, in the meantime, see if I can find a ship which will carry me to Sweden towards the end of the week."

"That should not be difficult, as there is a large and constant traffic between Copenhagen and Stockholm."

Roger acknowledged the information with a nod, and went on. "As to your other question; although I am now the domestic scene I still know next to nothing of Denmark's foreign policy, and I'd be still more your debtor if you would give me a few pointers on that."

"Most willingly," Elliot smiled. "Denmark is still a maritime power of some consequence, but in other respects she is a poor country and seeks to keep herself free of entanglements. For many years her policy was governed by her anxieties over the Duchies of Schleswig-Holstein; since, as you may know, the Czarina's late husband, Peter III, was a Holstein-Gottorp and inherited the Duchies from his father. Peter's claim to them was undoubtedly legal, and the idea of having a Russian army established on their border was, not unnaturally, viewed with the gravest apprehension by the Danes. However, in '73 they succeeded in persuading Catherine to forego her claim to the Duchies in exchange for those of Oldenberg and Delmenhorst."

"That would appear to have been but a poor swop as far as the Russians are concerned," Roger commented.

" Twas indeed. And for that reason I have always suspected that there was something fishy about the deal—some secret clause in the treaty that has never been disclosed."

" 'Tis certainly unlike all one hears of the Empress to give much for little."

Elliot nodded. "Mayhap the real price was that Denmark should remain neutral in the event of Russia going to war with Sweden. Some years ago Denmark feared that Gustavus III harboured designs against her Norwegian territories, so it seems that her interest lies in a pact with Sweden which would secure them from his aggression. Yet now that more recently he has endeavoured to win Denmark to him his efforts have proved unsuccessful. Last year, soon after the out­break of the Russian war against the Turks, King Gustavus came here on a visit to his nephew, the Prince Regent, and did his utmost to persuade the Danes to enter into an alliance with him against Russia; but although the Prince and Count Bernstorff showed him much polite­ness, they firmly rejected all his overtures."

" That admittedly gives grounds for supposing that they are already bound to neutrality, as you suggest. If so, there can be little prospect of gaining their support for the Triple Alliance."

"None, I fear. Our only hope of counteracting Catherine's designs in the north lies in Gustavus. He is an able and forceful monarch, with a strong ambition to revive Sweden's ancient glories. 'Tis secretly reported that he is already receiving subsidies from the Turk and plans a campaign against Russia this summer. 'Twas that which made me feel that you would do well to make an early remove to the Swedish capital."

"I hope to obtain a letter of introduction from Baron la Houze to the French Minister in Stockholm," Roger remarked. "But it might be helpful, Sir, if you would also be good enough to furnish me with one for the British representative."

The diplomat laughed a shade bitterly. "Had we one I would willingly do so; but for reasons best known to our Foreign Secretary the post has been vacant for some time; and I have no intelligence that it is likely to be filled in the near future, although it is now the key point of the north. In tbe meantime I am charged with a watching brief, but there is little I can do at such a distance."

For a moment Roger was silent, then he asked: "What think you of Sweden's chances against Russia should Gustavus decide to attack her?"

" 'Tis hard to say," Elliot shrugged. "While Russia remains fully extended against the Turks Gustavus will have her at a grave dis­advantage. On the other hand he will, I think, be fighting with a half-blunted sword."

"How mean you, Sir?"

"He is popular with his people but much disliked by his nobility; since he has deprived them of the power they had held in earlier reigns. Therefore his officers will not follow him to war with any

great enthusiasm. Moreover, he has not a single good General, whereas Russia is well-found in that way; and both her officers and men will show the most desperate valour against any foe that their Empress may order them to attack. Having fought in the Russian army myself I can vouch for its metal."

Roger looked his surprise. "Sir James told me that as a youth you had military ambitions, Sir; but how came it that you saw service with the Russians?"

"Simply because the British would not have me," came the smiling reply. "When I was ten a friend of my father's exercised his right as Colonel of a newly-raised regiment to present me with a Lieutenant's commission in it. Naturally my parents would not allow me to take it up until I had completed my education, but from that day I looked upon myself as a soldier. I spent two years at a military school in Paris before going to Oxford and afterwards resumed my military studies at Metz and Strasbourg. Only then did I learn that the War Secretary, Lord Barrington, had refused to ratify my commission with the seniority technically due to me."

"What a wretched stroke of fortune."

"Yes. I was most bitterly disappointed; because by that time I was nineteen, and I had no fancy to go in as junior to a dozen lads several years younger than myself. Instead I got the authorities to grant me the honorary rank of Captain with permission to serve in a foreign army. Austria seemed to offer the best prospects, as there were over five hundred British officers serving with the Austrian army at that time. But fortune proved against me in Vienna, and later in both Warsaw and Constantinople. I was in Bucharest, and almost in despair, when I learned that Russia was about to open a new campaign against the Turks, and that Marshal Romantzof was forming his headquarters at jassy. I had scarce heard the news when I received a letter from my father, ordering me home; but I ignored it and offered myself to the Marshal. Under him I was present at Giurgevo, where we were sur­prised and outnumbered by the Turks. Quite a tale was made of the manner in which I jumped over the heads and scimitars of a line of fierce-looking Janissaries right into the Danube, and swam across to the other bank; though the fact is that my only thought was to escape with my life, and that for more than half the distance I was clinging to the tail of a Cossack's horse."

"I vow you're being over-modest, Sir."

"Nay, 'tis the fact," Elliot laughed. "But 'twas a stroke of luck for me that the Russians should have taken it for a feat of valour. The Marshal gave me a most handsome mention in despatches and that, reaching my irate father's ears, pacified him for my having run half-round Europe when I was supposed to be gone only for a sojourn in Vienna."

"How liked you the Russians?"

"As soldiers and boon companions they left nothing to be desired; yet if I were ordered to Petersburg as Ambassador I confess that I'd set out with considerable misgivings. I recall, even now, a passage from a letter Sir James Harris wrote me during his Embassy; he said: 'The monarch is an arrant woman—a vain, spoilt woman—with more masculine than manly virtues, and more female vices than weak­nesses. The men in high life, monkeys grafted on bears, and those in lower, bears not inoculated. Religion, virtue and morality nowhere to be found; honour cannot be expressed in this language'."

They had reached the gate of the British Legation, and as Elliot brought his mount to a halt he added: "But soon now, you will be able to form your own judgment of Semiramis and her people. When you reach Stockholm I suggest that you should endeavour to cultivate the acquaintance of the Russian Ambassador there, Count Andrew Razumofsky. 'Twill give you a foretaste of their style and char­acter."

Roger smiled. "I've already had that in certain dealings with Count Vorontzoff, their Ambassador in London."

"Even so, 'twould repay you to become persona gratawith Razumofsky, if you can. That will not be easy. Like most of Catherine's representatives he is as proud as a peacock, and considers no one less than a prince fitted to consort with him on equal terms. Yet he is high in the Empress's confidence, and if you can flatter him into giving you the entreeto his circle, 'tis just possible that he might speak before you as a Frenchman with a freedom he would never use in the presence of English ears."

"I will bear your advice in mind, Sir," Roger promised. Then he thanked the British Minister for all his help and kindness, and rode off through the gathering dusk back to the city.

He was, however, to see Hugh Elliot once more before leaving Copenhagen. Having found a four-masted barque that was sailing from the Oster Port for Stockholm on the afternoon tide of Saturday, the 12th of May, he gave a farewell breakfast that morning at a French restaurant he had discovered in the Reverentz Gaarten on Kongens Nytorv. The place was run by a Parisian named Mareschal, and he provided a most excellent meal at which Elliot, la Houze, Count Reventlow, and several other gentlemen who had entertained Roger during the past week, met to wish him a good journey.

At two o'clock in the afternoon Monsieur le Chevalier de Breuc went on board carrying a heavy cargo of good French Claret and a letter in his pocket from Monsieur le Baron la Houze to Monsieur le Marquis de Pons, the French Minister in Stockholm; and he did not feel that his fortnight in Copenhagen had been by any means wasted. The weather was moderately good and three mornings later the barque carried him through the lovely waterways that grace the entrance to the beautiful Swedish capital.

On going ashore he had his baggage carried to the Vasa inn; and after taking his midday meal there, sent a note to Monsieur de Pons asking when it would be convenient to present a letter from Monsieur la Houze. He then went out for a walk round the town.

When he got back he found to his surprise and pleasure that the French Ambassador had already sent a reply, which ran:

The annual entertainment which I give to celebrate the ascension of our gracious sovereigns to the throne should have been held on Thursday the tenth last; but has been postponed until to-night in the hope that HM. King Gustavus will have returned to his capital and be able to honour us with his presence.

I pray you therefore, my dear fellow-countryman, to dispense with formality, and give me the pleasure of welcoming you to Sweden this evening.

I have the honour, etc., etc.

Enclosed was a large crested card showing the entertainment to be a Bal Masque, for which guests were bidden to assemble at eight o'clock. So Roger promptly made arrangements at the inn for a coach to take him to the French Embassy, and hurried out again to get him­self a domino.

In Stockholm, as in Copenhagen, he found that the shopkeepers as well as the upper classes all spoke either French or German, and at a big mercer's in Paul's Gatan he secured a pale blue domino and mask. Back at the inn he had a barber dress his hair in the prevailing French fashion; with side curls, toupee and turned up behind, and, for such an occasion, heavily powdered. The domino, like the loose, light costume of a pierrot, entirely concealed his long scarlet coat, gold-laced waist­coat and frilled shirt, but his quizzing-glass hung outside it on a black moire ribbon. To complete his toilette he scented himself and put a beauty patch on the lower part of his left cheek. Then, at a little after seven-thirty, he went down to the waiting coach.

He had already ascertained that the French Embassy was a country mansion situated a little way outside the city on one of the many promontories that fringed the fiord, so he was not surprised when ms coach left the cobbled ways and entered a belt of sweet-scented pine woods. About half-a-mile further on it turned a sharp corner, then suddenly swerved to one side of the track.

Recovering his balance Roger saw at once the reason for his coach­man's sudden swerve. Just ahead of them was another coach, a huge gilded vehicle with six horses, postillions and outriders; one of its wheels had come off and it was lying at an angle half in and half out of the ditch. Beside it, among the richly-liveried servants, stood a big broad-shouldered man and a girl with flowers and feathers in her high-dressed hair. Both of them were masked and wearing dominoes.

Roger at once called on his own coachman to halt and got out. In spite of the presence of the girl the owner of the broken-down vehicle was cursing his servants in French with language which would have made a fishwife blush. As Roger came up the angry man hit his coach­man with his clenched fist and sent the poor wretch sprawling into the ditch.

After a loud cough to draw his attention, Roger said: "I see, Sir, that you are the victim of an unfortunate accident, and from your domino it appears that you were on your way to the French Embassy. Pray allow me to offer you and your lady seats in my coach."

With a visible effort to swallow his rage, the man replied: "I thank you, Sir. We are mightily obliged."

Turning to the girl Roger made her a gallant leg, and said: "Your servant, Mademoiselle. Permit me to introduce myself. . . ."

But with a quick gesture of her fan she stopped him and laughed behind her mask. "Nay, Monsieur. I beg you to do no such thing. 'Tis quite romantic to be rescued from our predicament by a strange cavalier; and the whole object of our dominoes is to preserve the secret of our identity until midnight. Let us all retain our incognito until then."

"Willingly, Mademoiselle," smiled Roger, and he bowed his new acquaintances into his coach; then, getting in himself, swiftly took more careful stock of them.

The man was not particularly tall but immensely broad across the shoulders. His forehead was low and sloping, his hair, under the powder, black; as were also his eyes. Below the mask his lips showed full and red, and his heavy chin was thrust forward aggressively. The girl was a little above medium height, and her hair was only lightly powdered, as it was so fair as to be almost silver. Her eyes, which held a merry sparkle, were green; and although the domino concealed the details of her figure, Roger judged her to be slim. He naturally assumed them to be Swedes, and having remarked that he had arrived in Stock­holm only that morning, began to praise the beauty of their capital.

Both of them agreed about its attractions, and the girl spoke of society there as both gay and civilised; but they had been talking for only a few moments when the coach pulled up behind a line of others and, shortly afterwards, set them down.

The French Embassy was a miniature palace with a fine entrance hall, now thronged with dominoes slowly making their way up a broad, shallow staircase towards a landing where the Marquis and Marquise de Pons were receiving their guests. They were masked and made no attempt to probe the identity of the men and women with whom they formally exchanged bows and curtseys at the stair-head; so Roger passed on with his new friends into the ballroom.

The fiddles were just striking up for the second dance, and Roger seized the opportunity to lead the girl out to a gavotte, during which, from politeness more than interest, he at once began to flirt with her. He soon found that she was an adept at the art and her green eyes gave him ample encouragement as he whispered pretty nothings in her ear each time they came together in the movements of the dance.

When it was over he led her into the next salon and endeavoured to find out who she was; but she would not give him a hint and said that he must wait until after midnight to find out. He begged her to give him the first dance following the removal of masks, but she told him that it was already promised and that, much as she would have liked to oblige him, she was already committed to a score of beaux from midnight onwards. On his pretending the most bitter disappoint­ment she laughingly consoled him by saying that Stockholm was such a small place that he would be certain to have many opportunities of seeing her in the future if he wished.

A tall domino then came up and asked her for the next dance. As the newcomer offered his arm to lead her away Roger noticed that his left hand was encased in a black kid glove, suggesting that it was either malformed or injured in some way.

Left to his own devices Roger amused himself for a little by making a tour of the fine run of reception rooms. Then he asked half-a-dozen ladies to dance; but none of them particularly intrigued him. He had as yet had no opportunity to judge if the green-eyed girl was really good-looking, but all that her mask left revealed of her features suggested that she was, and the fact that she had refused him a dance for after midnight because she was already promised to a string of beaux gave strong support to the assumption. Looks apart, she cer­tainly had personality and wit, as was borne in upon him more sharply from contrast with the comparative insipidity of the other young women that he led out on to the floor.

As the evening wore on he realised that she had possessed a certain subtle attraction, of which he had not been fully conscious until he began to think about her after she left him; so he decided to try to find her again. But it proved no easy matter to pick her out among the scores of women, all of whom were masked and most of whom had flowers and feathers in their high-dressed powdered hair. All the dominoes were of plain colours and the fact that she had been wearing one of lilac was of no great help, since all the ladies were in pastel shades of blue, pink or mauve.

Once, he felt certain he had identified her, but she was taking part in a minuet at the far end of the ballroom, and as the crowd of dancers left the floor he lost sight of her again. It was now nearing mid­night so he gave up the attempt and consoled himself with the thought that she had definitely encouraged him to develop their acquaintance during his stay in Stockholm. No doubt she had refused to commit herself later that night only for the purpose of leading him on; her tantalizing smile had certainly conveyed that impression.

Roger decided that this must be his lucky night. Within a bare twelve hours of his landing in Sweden he had been received at the French Embassy, and by a fortunate accident, had the prospect of developing an affaire with an unusually intriguing young woman. He was not of a type to take no for an answer, and made up his mind that as soon as the company removed their masks he would find her again, and by hook or by crook, persuade her to give him another dance.

The pre-midnight dance ended and the throng swarmed out to shed its dominoes in the ante-chambers, returning still masked but in-all the splendour of silk, velvet, satin and brocade, to line the sides of the ballroom four deep. A file of footmen entered carrying silver salvers loaded with glasses of champagne, which they handed to the guests. The Ambassador and his wife emerged from the crowd at one end of the room, leading deferentially between them a regal-looking woman; a little cortege of older men and women wearing the stars and sashes of orders formed up behind them, someone called for silence and in a high, precise voice their host made a short speech.

He said how greatly they all regretted that His Majesty King Gustavus was still detained by his labours at Carlscrona, but how highly they were honoured by having his august consort, Queen Sophia Magdalena, in their midst. At this point, the regal-looking lady un­masked, disclosing the handsome but rather sad features of a woman in her late thirties. Everyone else then unmasked and made her a deep obeisance.

She smiled graciously round on them and gave the Ambassador her hand to kiss; after which he continued his speech, asking them to drink long life and happiness to his sovereigns, King Louis XVI and Queen Marie Antoinette, in this, the opening of the fifteenth year of their reign.

When the health had been drunk and the cheers subsided the Queen was led to a canopied chair on a low dais; and on her having signified that the merriment should continue the richly dressed crowd began to mingle, friends greeting one another gaily and the men who had met attractive partners while masked endeavoured to identify them again.

As soon as Roger could get near enough to do so he made himself known to the Marquis de Pons, and thanked him for having so kindly invited him to the ball. The Ambassador was a dapper, alert-eyed little man of about forty. He inquired after la Houze, asked Roger to come to breakfast two days later to give him the news from Copenhagen, then presented him to the Marquise.

She was considerably younger than her husband, not strictly beautiful, but extraordinarily soignee, and possessed a rather roguish mouth and eyes. Roger was keeping a sharp look-out for his charmer of the coach but he knew that he was now on duty, and although his rank was hardly sufficient to warrant it, he boldly asked his hostess for the dance that was just starting.

Taking her lower lip between her pretty teeth she gave one swift look at the elderly group surrounding the Queen, then smiled into Roger's deep blue eyes, and whispered: "I shall lose my reputation by treading a measure with a handsome young gallant instead of devoting myself to those stupid old Generals."

He returned her smile. "Rather, Madame, will your reputation be enhanced, from your charity in taking pity on a fellow-countryman who is a stranger in a strange land."

"Ah, yes; we are both exiles," she sighed. "And what would I not give to be back at Versailles! Lead me out then, Monsieur; talking to you will remind me of its gaieties, and make me forget this poor unhappy Queen."

During the dance Roger whispered the same sweet nothings into the ear of the Ambassador's wife that he had in that of the green-eyed girl some hours earlier, and she responded with even greater finesse. When the music stopped he sought to lead her away to one of the sitting-out places, but she shook her head. "Alas, Monsieur, I must return to my duties; but 'twas a pleasant interlude. I pray you come often to see us while you are in Stockholm and lighten the ennuiof my lot here by talk of our fair France."

"Madame; to be with you is to lose all regret that I ever left it," he replied gallantly; thinking once more what a lucky evening it was for mm; since the friendship of the charming woman at his side might prove not only delightful in itself but of considerable value in his mission.

As they were moving back towards the end of the room where the Queen sat surrounded by a little court, Roger suddenly caught sight of the green-eyed girl. She was, as he had supposed, very slim, and definitely good-looking in a queer, unusual way.

"Can you tell me, Madame?" he asked quickly. "Who the tall fair lady is, over there? The one wearing the splendid emeralds and in a primrose dress covered with little silver stars."

The Marquise shot him a sideways glance from her china-blue eyes and asked in a slightly piqued voice: "Are you attracted by her?"

"Nay, Madame," he lied. "I could not be attracted by anyone while in your company. 'Tis only that on the way here her coach broke down, and I carried her and her elderly cavalier here in mine."

"You are forgiven," smiled the Marquise. "But even had you been, I would have been charitable enough to warn you to beware of her. She is a young widow with a curiously malicious turn of humour. 'Tis said that her favours can be won, but when she tires of her beaux she has a most unpleasant trick of making fools of them afterwards. Her name is Natalia Andreovna Stroganof and she is the daughter of the Russian Ambassador, Count Razumofsky."

Roger saw that the green-eyed lady had also recognised him, and was now regarding him with a seductive little smile. As he smiled back he could hardly believe his good fortune in having so swiftly and effort­lessly acquired an entreeinto the heart of both the French and Russian camps. It seemed indeed a lucky evening; but had he been able to fore­see the future he would have fled the ballroom there and then.

CHAPTER IX

THE: UNCROWNED QUEEN

WHEN they reached the outer fringe of the Queen's circle, Madame de Pons told Roger to remain where he was, and went forward herself to speak to her Royal guest. After a moment she returned to say that she had obtained permission to present him, then led him forward to make his bow.

The Queen smiled wistfully at him and beckoned to him with her fan. As he advanced, bowing again with each step, he wondered why she looked so sad and had been referred to by the Marquise as "this poor, unhappy Queen." He knew nothing about her except that she was the sister of Christian VII, the mad King of Denmark, and had been married to Gustavus of Sweden for some twenty years.

On learning that he had just arrived from Copenhagen she inquired after her brother and her nephew the Prince Regent, then, after a few minutes of not very inspiring conversation she said she hoped that Roger would enjoy his stay in Sweden, and gave him her hand to kiss as a sign that the audience was over.

As soon as he was free Roger went in search of the green-eyed lady, now more determined than ever to pursue his acquaintance with her, not only from pleasure but as the best possible line for gaining information which would be useful to him in his task.

He found that she was dancing with a tall fair man of about thirty, and after a moment, noticed that his left hand was encased in a black kid glove; so he was evidently the masked gallant who had claimed her earlier in the evening. Roger waited patiently for the dance to end, then followed the couple as they left the ballroom with the intention of learning where they meant to sit out, and giving them ten minutes or so together before making another attempt to persuade the young widow to give him a dance.

Green-eyes and her escort went down the grand staircase and entered a salon on its right, where a handful of people were partaking of refresh­ments from a long buffet. As Roger followed he saw a fat elderly man, who was standing by himself, set down his glass of wine, bow to the girl and say something to her cavalier; upon which both men bowed to her, evidently asking her permission to have a word apart; she nodded to them and went on alone through a doorway into a further room.

Seeing his opportunity Roger hastened his pace, passed the two men, who were now conversing earnestly together, and followed his quarry into the next room. In one glance he saw that it was a small library and empty except for the girl, who had advanced to the window and was standing with her back towards him. With a wicked little smile he softly closed the door behind him and shot the bolt.

On hearing his footfall she turned and gave an exclamation of surprise at seeing Roger instead of her cavalier.

As he stood there smiling at her he had his first opportunity of really taking in her features. Natalia Andreovna was twenty-five years of age. Her bust was small, almost flat for that period when abundant curves were the fashion, and this gave the impression that she was even thinner than was in fact the case. Above her green eyes, narrow, darkish eyebrows slanted upwards towards her temples in strange contrast to her ash-blonde hair. Her cheekbones were high; her face a long oval. Her nose was short and her mouth thin, but her head was beautifully set on a long swan-like neck. Her physical charms were unusual but strongly compelling.

Raising the tapering eyebrows she said with feigned hauteur: "What means this, Monsieur?"

Roger retained his impudent grin and bowed. "Merely the claim­ing of the promise you made me, Madame."

"I made you no promise."

"By inference you did. 'Twas at your suggestion that we retained our incognito until midnight. And the reason you gave for that was that it would be more romantic to do so. No romance could flourish in a crowd, so I assumed that I had your permission to seek you out alone."

Her eyes held no anger but a faint amusement as they ran over his tall, muscular figure, his healthily-bronzed face, strong white teeth and long, well-made hands.

"Permit me to make myself known to you," he went on. "I am the Chevalier de Breuc, of Strasbourg, and your most humble servant. Nay, more. If you would have it so, I am already your adoring slave."

She smiled. "And I am the Baroness Stroganof, but. . . ." The door handle rattled sharply; then there came a swift knock on the door.

" 'Tis my partner, Count Yagerhorn!" she exclaimed.

Roger put his finger to his lips to enjoin silence, tiptoed quickly forward, took her by the hand and turning her about pulled her gently towards the window.

"Monsieur!" she whispered. "What—what are you about to do?"

"Why, carry you off," he whispered back with a low laugh. "Is not climbing in and out of windows the very essence of romance?"

The knocking came again, louder and more imperative.

"But Count Yagerhorn!" she protested quickly. "I cannot leave him thus. And your having locked the door compromises me sadly. Unless you let him in at once and make him an apology he may challenge you to fight."

Roger had thrust up the lower half of the window. It was only a four foot drop to the broad stone terrace that overlooked the bay.

" 'Tis against my religion to apologise to any man," he declared gaily. "But if the Count wishes to fight let me at least rob him of more than two minutes' converse with you as a cause for shedding his blood. Come, I will go first, and catch you as you jump."

Suiting the action to the word he scrambled out on to the terrace and, turning, held up his arms to her.

She leaned forward, her green eyes narrowed in a speculative look. "You seem mightily cocksure of a victory, Monsieur. I wonder are you truly as bold as your words imply?"

"Try me, and see," he laughed, stretching up to take her hand. "I'd fight half-a-dozen men for a kiss from you."

"If I've ever a mind to test you as a champion I'll take you up on that," she smiled. Then, suddenly deciding that this tempestuous new beau offered more prospect of amusement than her recent partner, she stepped up onto the low sill and jumped lightly down.

As Roger caught her in his arms he drew her body swiftly against his own and kissed her firmly on the mouth. She made no attempt to stop him and for a full minute they clung together mouth pressed to mouth.