"Robert Clephane was all that she said--and more. Middle-aged when he married me, before a year was pa.s.sed I had found that I was only another experience for him; and that after a short time he had resumed his ways of--gaiety. Not caring to be pitied, nor to be so soon a deserted wife, nor yet to admit my loss of attraction for him, I dashed into the gay life of Paris with reckless fervour. I know I was indiscreet. I know I fractured conventionality and was dreadfully compromised--but I never violated the Seventh Commandment. Robert Clephane and I were not separated--except by a locked door.

"Then one day some two years back, dreadfully mangled, they brought him home. An aeroplane had fallen with him--with the usual result. That moment saw the end of my gay life. I pa.s.sed it up as completely as though it had never been. The reason for it was gone. After a very short period of mourning, I took up the quietness of a respectable widow, who wished only to forget that she ever was married."

"I can understand exactly," said Harleston. "You shall never hear a word from me to remind you."

"I've never heard anything to remind me of the past until this alluring beauty's insinuations of a moment ago. That is why it hit me so hard, Mr. Harleston. And why did she do it? Is she jealous of you, or of me, or what?"

"She's not jealous of me!" he laughed. "I know her history; it's something of a history, too.... Sometime I'll tell you all about it; it's an interesting tale. Is it possible you've never heard in Paris of Madeline Spencer?"

"Never!"

"Nor of the d.u.c.h.ess of Lotzen?"

"Great Heavens!" she cried. "Is she the d.u.c.h.ess of Lotzen?"

"The same," Harleston nodded.

"H-u-m! I can understand now a little of her--No wonder I felt my helplessness before her polished poise!"

"Nonsense!" he smiled.

"Why should such an accomplished--diplomat want to injure me with you?"

she asked.

"She was not seeking to injure you in the sense that you imply," he returned. "Her purpose was to put you in the same cla.s.s as herself, so that I should trust you no more than I do her; to make you appear an emissary of France, in its secret service, playing the game of ignorance and inexperience for its present purpose. For you, as a personality she does not care a fig. To her you are but one of the pieces, to be moved or threatened as her purpose dictates. In the diplomatic game, my lady, we know only one side--all other sides are the enemy; and nothing, not even a woman's reputation, is permitted to stand for an instant in the way of attaining our end."

"Therefore a good woman--or one who would forget the past--has no earthly business to become involved in the game," Mrs. Clephane returned. "I shall get out of it the instant this matter of the letter is completed--and stay out thereafter. Even friendship won't lure me to it. Never again, Mr. Harleston, never again for mine!"

"I wish you would let it end right now," he urged.

"That wouldn't be the part of a good sport, nor would it be just to Madame Durrand. She trusts me."

"Then inform the French Amba.s.sador of all the facts and circ.u.mstances and retire from the game," he advised.

"Shall I inform him over the telephone?" she asked.

"You would never get the Amba.s.sador on the telephone, unless you were known to some one of the staff who could vouch for you."

"I don't know anyone on the staff, but Mrs. Durrand has likely communicated with the Emba.s.sy."

"If she has, she had given them a minute description of you, yet that can not be used to identify you over the telephone."

"I hesitate to go to the Emba.s.sy without the letter," she said.

"Why do you hesitate?" he smiled.

"Because I--don't want to admit defeat."

"Which of itself will serve to substantiate your story. One skilled in the game would have lost no time in informing the Emba.s.sy of the loss of the letter. He would have realized that, next to the letter itself, the news of its seizure was the best thing he could deliver--also, it was his _duty_ to advise the Emba.s.sy at the quickest possible moment.

You see, dear lady, personal pride and pique play no part in this game.

They are not even considered; it's the execution of the mission that's the one important thing; all else is made to bend to that single end."

"Then I should go to the French Emba.s.sy tonight with my story?" she asked.

"You should have gone this morning--the instant you were returned to the hotel! Now, unless Madame Durrand had written about you, it's a pretty good gamble that the Spencer crowd has forestalled you."

"Forestalled me! What do you mean?"

"Mrs. Spencer admitted to me that your release was someone's blunder.

The normal thing was to hold you prisoner and so prevent you from communicating with the Amba.s.sador until they had obtained the letter or defeated its purpose. That was not done; but Spencer, you may a.s.sume, has attempted to rectify their blunder--possibly by impersonating you, and giving the Marquis d'Hausonville some tale that will fall in with her plans and gain time for her."

"Impersonating me!" Mrs. Clephane exclaimed incredulously.

"Yes. She knows all the material circ.u.mstance--witness the telephone call that inveigled you into the drive up the Avenue, _et cetera_--and she'll take the chance that you are not known to the Marquis nor any of the staff, or even the chance that Madame Durrand has not yet informed them. Indeed she may have taken precautions against her informing them.

A few bribes to the hospital attendants, carefully distributed, would be sufficient. It's not everyone who could, or would venture to, pull off the coup, but with Spencer the very daring of a thing adds to its pleasure and its zest."

"You amaze me!" Mrs. Clephane replied. "I thought also that diplomacy was the gentlest-mannered profession in the world--and the most dignified."

"It is--on the surface. Fine residences, splendid establishments, brilliant uniforms, much bowing and many genuflections, plenty of parade and glitter--everything for show. Under the surface: a supreme contempt for any code of honour, and a ruthlessness of purpose simply appalling--yet, withal, dignity, strained at times, but dignity none-the-less."

"Then it isn't even a respectable calling!" she exclaimed.

"It's eminently respectable to intimidate and to lie for one's country--and to stoop to any means to attain an end."

"And you enjoy it!" she marvelled.

"I do. It's fascinating--and I leave the disagreeable portion to others, when it has to do with those not of the profession."

"And when it has to do with those of the profession?"

"Then it's all in the game, and everything goes to win--because we all know what to expect and what to guard against. No one believes or trusts the enemy; and, as I said, everyone is the enemy but those who are arrayed with us."

"So instead of being the finest profession in the world--and the most aristocratic," Mrs. Clephane reflected, "a diplomat is, in truth, simply a false-pretence artist of an especially refined and dangerous type, who deals with the affairs of nations instead of the affairs of an individual."

"Pretty much," he admitted. "Diplomacy is all bluff, bl.u.s.ter, buncombe, and bullying; the degrees of refinement of the aforesaid bluff, _et cetera_, depending on the occasions, and the particular parties involved in the particular business."

"Again I'm well content to be simply an ordinary woman, whose chief delight and occupation is clothes and the wearing of clothes."

"You're a success at your occupation," Harleston replied.

"Some there are who would not agree with you," she replied. "However, we are straying from the question before us, which is: what shall I do about informing the Marquis d'Hausonville? Will you go with me?"

"My going with you would only complicate matters for you. The Marquis would instantly want to know what such a move on my part meant. I'm known to be in the secret service of the United States, you must remember. Furthermore your tale will accuse me of the taking of the letter--and you see the merry mess which follows. I cannot return the letter--it's in possession of the State Department. I'm far transgressing my duty by disclosing anything as to the letter. Indeed, I'm liable to be disciplined most drastically, even imprisoned, should it chance that the United States was involved."

"You've told me nothing more than you've already told the Spencer crowd," she objected.

"The difference is that the Spencer crowd are trying to obtain something to which they haven't the least right--and I'm playing the game against them. You see my peculiar position, Mrs. Clephane. I've told you what I shouldn't, because--well, because I'm sure that you will not use it to my disadvantage."

She traced the figures on her gown with the tips of her fingers, and for awhile was silent--