There wait for me. I shall be ready by eleven-fifteen at the latest.

That is all.... No! I forgot the reward!"

"Reward!" he echoed, puzzled.

"You forget you saved my life," she replied, smiling. "Close your eyes--promise you will not open them till I give you leave. You promise?"

"Yes," he laughed, still not understanding.

He closed his eyes and waited. With a mischievous smile she bent forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Lionel started. In a moment doubt was forgotten--forgotten the husband. All he knew was that a heavenly creature had deigned to kiss him. "Your promise!" she cried warningly, and by an effort of pride he kept his eyes closed. But he stood up, his arms held out. There was dead silence for a moment, and then--

"Am I still bound?"

"You are free," she said merrily. He opened his eyes, to find the reality more alluring than the dream. He seized her hands. She could not help shrinking a little, though her eyes shone defiance.

"Why did you do that?" he breathed, aflame.

She smiled mournfully.

"Forgive me," she pleaded in tones that disarmed him.

Lionel remembered his role as a man of honor and dropped her hand.

"I beg your pardon," he said, but a little bitterly. She lowered her eyes.

"It is I who should beg yours. I must go now. Eleven-fifteen!"

Feeling that romance was somewhat overworked, he replied, "Right ho!"

CHAPTER IV

BREAKERS AHEAD!

At eleven-thirty Lionel found himself enjoying a tete-a-tete supper in a Bloomsbury flat. He had obtained a cab, as commanded, and the lady and he had driven home together. There had been no adventures, no spies, no melodrama. In unromantic silence had they gone, for after the thrills of the afternoon and evening neither had been in the mood to talk. On reaching her flat, which was on the first floor, the lady had let herself in with a latch-key, and they had gone straight into the prettiest little sitting-room imaginable. Here a cold supper, simple but excellent, was laid: a bottle of hock and a siphon of lemonade were the only liquors visible. They supped together, talking briskly of various themes, but Lukos and the treaty were not mentioned till they had finished. When they had established themselves in armchairs and lighted a couple of cigarettes the lady said: "And now let me tell you what I want you to do. But first of all, will you please ring for coffee?"

Lionel obeyed, awaiting with some curiosity the expected newcomer. Would it be a smart maid, a mysterious man servant, or a crone with a history in every wrinkle? His doubts were speedily resolved. The door opened without noise, and there entered the most charming parlor maid the heart of man could wish. She was, of course, in a maid's livery--the black and white that is so simple, serviceable, and that can be so picturesque.

Her figure was the trimmest imaginable, her eyes were a dusky brown, her hair was of jet. The last was arranged in a coiffure that a thoughtless man would have judged unstudied, but a schoolgirl of fifteen would have known its value at a glance. The features of this disturbing damsel were not faultless--the nose, for example, did not perfectly succeed, but her eyebrows looked as if they had been drawn by a painter, the mouth promised a treasury of kisses, and the complexion bespoke an air less rude than London's, for it shamed the most delicate of roses. Lionel was obliged to remind himself that the mistress had first claim on his affections.

"Clear the things, please, Mizzi," said the lady, not marking the stupor of her guest. "And then bring in coffee."

("Mizzi!" thought Lionel. "Then she is a German or Austrian. And I called myself a Teuto-phobe!")

The supper was speedily cleared and the coffee brought. The lady sipped reflectively for a few moments, and then plunged into the business.

"What I want you to do," she said abruptly, "is to help me break into a house."

Lionel was almost proof against surprises. You must remember that he had had some years of monotonous wear-and-tear at the hands of the world and at times longed for an adventure as some men long for drink. But he prided himself on his self-control, and had felt sure that he would meet any adventure with an a.s.sumption of ease, however joyful he might feel within. So far he had done pretty well: he had stopped a runaway horse, rescued a charming actress, spent a few thrilling hours in her company, and on the whole had kept himself in hand. But to be asked in a matter-of-fact tone to help in committing a felony was almost too much for his sang-froid. However, he remembered that good fortune has its price, and that great achievements need great sacrifices. Besides, she was so adorable, and he hated to back out of any enterprise.

"By all means," he said with a wan cheerfulness. "When shall I start?"

She laughed.

"That is so nice of you--not to ask why. I will tell you a little more, to a.s.sure you that our burglary is perfectly honorable. _We_ start presently--in a day, two days, a week--I can not tell. The fact is that I think a crisis is approaching. I am sure that very soon a favorable opportunity will present itself to make use of the treaty. Some little time ago I determined to hide this doc.u.ment: it was no longer safe to keep it in my own hands."

"Why not a bank----" he began.

"My friend, you have no _idea_ of the importance of the affair. Probably the bank would have been safe, but governments do not stick at trifles when the destinies of nations are at stake. Almost certainly a colossal bribe would have been offered, and even bank officials are human. So I resolved to be simple, original and daring. I hid the treaty in a house not far from here. How it was done I will tell you another time. What I want you to do is to help me regain it. I would go alone, but now I have begun to think it better to have an aide, in case I fail. You realize what it may mean if we are caught? A prison--for you must not explain.

Can you do that?"

"I am ready," he said with a laugh. When she looked at him like that he felt that nothing mattered. Besides, it would be a thrill.

"Good," she said with enormous appreciation. "And now I am going to bed.

I am very sleepy."

He rose, gloomily wondering when he should see her again. "Well," he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness, "good night."

"You are going?" she asked in surprise. "But why? I want you to stop here."

Lionel's heart bounded, and then he looked at her. He was tempted to stay, for she was unlike any other girl he had ever met. But that very reason made him pause. He knew he wanted to kiss her and that he must not. He thought he was not in love with her, because he ought not to be.

He knew that he would be in love with her if Lukos were dead. And because he felt that she mattered, he was resolved not to hurt her.

"I am sorry," he said, dropping his light tone. "I should like to, but--no!"

"Why not?" she asked, looking steadily at him. He looked as steadily at her.

"Convention," he said frankly. "If I stop here and people get to know, you will be slandered. That is why."

She was silent for a moment and then said softly: "You are better than I thought.... You must certainly stop. As for 'people'--well, I know the world and its miry ways. I know and I do not care."

"Your friends?" he suggested, rejoicing in her.

"I have only acquaintances, and they do not matter. Will that satisfy you?"

He fought against the temptation with a jest, for he felt that the pretty creature could not really know: "You forget the disappointment of Mrs. Barker."

She repeated the name wonderingly and he explained. "My landlady. If I do not return she will imagine I have run away to cheat her."

It was a poor jest, but only a jest, and he was benumbed at its effect.

The lady frowned terribly upon him. Anger swept her lovely features like a thunder-cloud.

"How could you?" she cried in heavenly wrath. "How paltry! How pitiable!

I knew you for a cheerful gentleman, but to find you a trivial scoffer----"

"Why, what have I done?" he stammered, amazed. "It was a mere joke--a laughing phrase--a word----"

"Done!" she echoed. "We were both upon the heights, and with your phrase--your joke--your word, you drag us down to the abyss of ba.n.a.lity again. I----"