"To persuasion, no; to exchange, yes. Our agreement is that if I provide the key-word, he will provide the letter in question. At ten o'clock this morning the trick is to be turned."

"And if the translation concerns the United States, he simply would turn the key upon you and hold you prisoner until the matter is cleared up."

"One must take some risks," Marston observed.

She nodded slightly.

"Which of these do you fancy is the key-word?" she asked.

"We shall try them in turn, beginning with the last: _a l'aube du jour_.

I've a hunch that we'll end there."

"And that you'll go into temporary confinement?" she smiled.

"My hunch stops with the key-word!" he smiled back.

"Your hunch as to the key-word is partially correct," she replied slowly, "but it does not, however, reach quite to the last conclusion. I may not explain now, Marston. Do you go to the meeting, with the code-book as your only exhibit. It should be indisputable proof of your good faith, and our honest belief that the letter does not concern the United States. Moreover, you run no danger of imprisonment, for you'll not effect a translation. But you must obtain a copy of the letter; it's but a fair exchange for the French code, you know; and you're permitted--nay you're authorized, in the interest of the service--to allow Carpenter to copy the book if he will give you the letter to copy.

Furthermore, you may proceed leisurely in the process; there is no particular haste; while they are occupied with the letter matter, there is apt to be less activity along other lines. Only get a _copy of the letter_; I have the key-word."

"You have the key-word!" Marston exclaimed.

She nodded. "I'm quite sure of it; and the code-book confirms me. It is up to you to procure the letter; I'll do the rest, if any rest is necessary. We may be headed for Europe by evening, Marston; in which event, the cipher letter is of no consequence to us."

"You'll be glad to get back to Paris?" he asked.

"I shall, indeed--won't you?"

"I'm quite content anywhere, so long as I am working with you," he answered. It was much as a faithful dog would wag his tail and snuggle up for a pat of the hand.

She smiled straight into his eyes--a frank, appreciative smile, as though an intimate camaraderie existed between them, and would never be violated by either. She would have been in danger had she smiled that way at some men; they would not have remained quiescent. And a little more aggression by Marston might have been more conducive for success--less of the faithful dog and more of the independent subordinate and the equal human. As it was, he was only a plaything.

"Now, my friend, if you're done you may go," she said briskly. "I must dress, and you're rather _de trop_ at such a time, however much you may be welcome at another. And, Marston, don't miss the copy of the letter; I'll expect you with it at seven; we'll make the translation together, either here or on the train to New York. You're to accompany me, you know. I've an appointment at one, and another at four, but I'll be here at seven. If I'm detained, wait."

When Marston had gone she turned over and composed herself for sleep--it was two hours until she had need to array herself for luncheon and Snodgra.s.s.... Yes, Snodgra.s.s was a very good-looking chap; her drive with him last night had been very satisfactory; he had the requisite wealth, so it might be just as well to let him become fascinated. It would be at least a momentary diversion; something to occupy her for the loss of Harleston. She closed her eyes--and shivered ever so little.

d.a.m.n Mrs. Clephane! But for her she would not have lost him.

She flung off the cover and sprang up. There was a chance left and she would try it. If it failed, she would not lose more than she had already lost. If it won, she won Harleston!

XX

PLAYING THE GAME

She threw a kimono around her and hastened to the telephone.

"Get me," she said to the hotel central, "Mr. Harleston at the Collingwood, the Cosmopolitan Club, or the State Department."

"I'll call you," said the operator--and Madeline Spencer leaned back in her chair and waited.

Presently the call came.

"I have Mr. Harleston for you," said the operator and switched on the trunk.

"Where are you, Guy?--this is Madeline Spencer," said she.

"I'm at the Collingwood, Madeline. Anything I can do for you?" was the answer.

"Yes. Be here in an hour; I must see you."

"Important?"

"Yes."

"Then I'll be there at ten-thirty."

"You're always good!" said she softly.

"Not always," he laughed, "but I will be this time."

She dressed in feverish haste, yet with great care and attention to effects. Her gown was a l.u.s.treless black silk, trimmed with gold and made as plain as her modiste would--and the styles permitted. Her hair was piled high, with an elongated twist; her dead-white complexion was unmarred by powder or rouge, and beneath the transparent skin the blood pulsed softly pink.

Her toilet finished, and pa.s.sed upon in the mirror, she sent her maid on a shopping expedition which would occupy her until noon, and even hurried her off. She wanted no one about, not even Elise, when she made her last play at Harleston.

Elise gone five minutes before the hour, she compelled herself to outward tranquillity--while she strove for inward calm. And succeeding wonderfully well--so well, indeed, that none would ever have suspected the agitation seething under the cold placidity. Its only evidence was in the gentle swing of her narrow foot, and the nervous play of her slender fingers. And even these indications disappeared at the knock on the corridor door; and she went almost blithely and flung it back--to Harleston bowing on the threshold.

"Punctual as usual!" she greeted.

"Because I came to one who is always punctual," he replied, taking her hand, nor dropping it until they were well inside the reception room.

"Sit down, old enemy," said she, sinking into a chair and pointing to another--which she had been careful to place just within reach. "You've nothing much to do for a short while, have you?"

"I've nothing much to do any time except to keep an eye on you!" he laughed.

"Am I so difficult?" she asked.

"You keep me fairly occupied at all times--and sometimes rather more."

"At least I endeavour not to offend your eye!" she smiled, her head on her hand, her eyes on him.

"The only difficulty is that you are too alluring," he returned. "One is p.r.o.ne to forget that his business is not to admire but to observe dispa.s.sionately and to block your plans. You're much too beautiful, Madeline; you usually make monkeys of all of us, and while we're held fascinated by your loveliness you scoop the prize. It's not fair, my lady; you play with--loaded dice."

"Flatterer!" she said, melting into another pose.

"Flatterer!" he exclaimed. "If you could but see yourself now, you would confess the truth of the indictment. You're the loveliest thing, and you grow lovelier every day and younger. Positively, Madeline, you're a--"

he paused for words and raised his hands helplessly.