There was a vigour in her walk, a determination in her face, which made Lavendale pause for an instant before he crossed the street to accost Suzanne de Freyne. It was perfectly clear to him that she was bound upon a serious errand. She was dressed with her usual subdued elegance but with more, even, than her usual simplicity. In her black tailor-made costume, her small hat and neat patent shoes, she looked like the Rue de la Paix at four o'clock in the afternoon during its halcyon days. He was forced to quicken his pace to intercept her.

'Good morning, Miss de Freyne!'

She turned quickly around and held out her left hand. Her greeting was cordial enough, but her air of abstraction did not altogether disappear.

'Where have you been hiding for the last few days?' she asked.

'I came back from Holland last night,' he replied. 'I have been in Germany again.'

'Any news?' she asked quickly.

'Nothing very wonderful. I needn't ask how things are with you. I can tell that you have something on hand. Can I help?'

She laughed.

'You are right in a way, but I don't think you can help,' she told him. 'This is quite an important morning—it is Celia's sale.'

He was a little staggered. Her manner was convincing.

'You mean that you are going to a millinery sale?'

'Don't be silly,' she answered. 'The first morning of Celia's sale is the most important event of the season. We have printed cards of invitation, and policemen outside the door to keep away intruders. This isn't any ordinary bargain hunting, you know. This is our one chance to provide ourselves with the elegancies of life at a reasonable cost.'

'For the moment, I gather,' he went on, falling into step with her, 'the affairs of the nation are in the background.'

'Naturally,' she assented.

'At what hour,' he inquired, 'will this function be over?'

She glanced at him suspiciously.

'If I thought you were making fun——'

'Never entered into my head,' he assured her.

'Then you can give me some lunch at one o'clock,' she promised.

'That's exactly what I was hoping for. And, Miss de Freyne?'

'Well?'

'Would you mind very much if I brought an acquaintance?'

She glanced at him in some surprise.

'Of course not,' she answered, 'only it must be a grill-room luncheon, please. I am dressed for a scrimmage.'

'At one o'clock at the Milan Grill,' he told her, raising his hat.

He strolled slowly away southwards, crossed Pall Mall, and let himself in by a side entrance to the American Embassy. Here he spent a few minutes in the outer offices and passed on, a little later, into a more private apartment. An elderly man with a clean-shaven face, grey hair brushed back from his forehead, and tortoiseshell-rimmed spectacles, looked up from his roll-topped desk and waved his visitor to a seat.

'Hullo, Ambrose! Anything fresh?'

Lavendale drew up a chair and grasped the hand which the other offered him.

'There is plenty going on, if one could get to understand it, Mr. Washburn,' he said. 'Berlin had me puzzled.'

'When did you get back?'

'Last night.'

'See anything of our friend?'

'He crossed with me.'

'Get acquainted with him?'

'Oh! I knew him before in Washington and in New York,' Lavendale replied. 'I took care to remind him of it, too. Yes, he was quite friendly. All the same, he was secretive. He didn't tell me the one thing I discovered of the greatest interest in connection with his trip, and that was that the Kaiser sent his private car three hundred miles and met him at the Western Headquarters. They spent the best part of the day together. Has he been in here?'

Mr. Washburn shook his head.

'He neither reported before he left, nor has he been in since he got back. Kind of giving us the cold shoulder, isn't it?'

'He hasn't had much time yet,' Lavendale remarked thoughtfully, 'but it certainly doesn't look exactly like the behaviour of a loyal American.'

Mr. Washburn turned in his place, removed his spectacles from his eyes and rubbed them carefully with his handkerchief. A slight weariness was apparent in his face and tone.

'That's our great trouble, Ambrose,' he said. 'Germany's a mighty country. She holds her sons in a closer grip than any other nation in the world. A German-American is a German first and an American afterwards, and don't you forget it. That's what makes us such a polyglot, indiscriminate race. Are you going to make a report?'

'Not at present,' Lavendale replied. 'I haven't yet pieced together the scraps I was able to pick up. Let it be for a day or two. What I am anxious to find out is whether Kessner reports here or not, and what account he gives, if any, of his journey to Germany.'

'I'll send you word directly he shows up, if he comes at all,' Mr. Washburn promised. 'I hear there are half-a-dozen more of his gang in London.'

Lavendale nodded.

'They've some sort of a show on. Kessner as good as admitted it to me.'

'Where do you stand with him?' Mr. Washburn asked curiously.

'I'm all right up to the present,' Lavendale asserted. 'He believes I went over on a mission about the British prisoners, 'and he's inclined to fancy I may be useful to him. Anyway, he is lunching with me to-day.'

Mr. Washburn smiled.

'If you think you'll get much out of him, young fellow,' he said, 'I fancy you're looking for disappointment. The brains that made twenty million in Wall Street and control an organization so secret that we can't even put a finger upon it——'

'Yes, I know,' Lavendale interrupted, rising, 'but, you know, there's always chance to be reckoned with, and I've one card up my sleeve, anyway. I know all about him and he doesn't suspect me yet.' ...

'Exactly why am I asked to this festive lunch?' Suzanne de Freyne inquired, as she leaned back upon a settee in the small lounge which led into the Milan grill-room, at a few minutes before one o'clock that morning.

'Because I am up against a cul-de-sac,' Lavendale confessed, 'and I want your woman's wit to show me the way out.'

'You seem to be taking it for granted that we are allies,' she remarked.

'We are to a certain extent,' he pleaded. 'You must admit that a Germanized United States would be bad for you, and that is what we have to fight against.'

A waiter set down two cocktails upon a small table in front of them. She sipped hers deliberately.

'Tell me, what is the trouble with this man Kessner?' she asked. 'Of what is it that you really suspect him?'

'I wish I knew,' Lavendale groaned. 'These are the bald facts. Washington and New York, during the last six months, have been the scene of the most desperate efforts of German diplomacy and political manoeuvring, with one sole aim—that of preventing the export of munitions of war to England or France. Money has been spent like water but the progress has been too slow. Germany has gained adherents to her point of view, but not enough. America is in a position to be of immense use to the Allies and none whatever to Germany or Austria, and up to the present she shows no signs of ceasing to supply England and France and Russia with all the munitions she can turn out. The German Party in America have taken stock of these things. They have measured their weakness and tasted defeat. Everything up to this point has been above-board. We understood perfectly well what they were fighting for, and to a certain extent admitted their grievance.'

'They had no grievance,' Miss de Freyne interposed.

'Perhaps not a logical one,' Lavendale admitted, 'but you see it is perfectly true that while they are supplying munitions on an immense scale to the Allies, they are supplying none at all to Germany and Austria. That is, of course, owing to England's control of the sea, but it is galling to Germany and Austria to know that a neutral country is providing her enemies with the means of waging warfare against her. From their point of view it is not ideal neutrality, is it?'

'America is perfectly ready to supply Germany and Austria as well,' she reminded him. 'Besides, Germany and Austria both supplied England during the Boer War.'

'That, of course, is what makes America's position logical,' he went on, 'but listen. Kessner and his friends have obviously come to an end of their intriguing in the direction of stopping supplies. They have dropped their newspaper campaign. They have shrugged their shoulders and apparently accepted the inevitable. No one who knows them would believe them capable of anything of the sort. Kessner has been over here for a month. He was in Germany when I was. He spent a week with the Chancellor and a long time with the Kaiser himself. Heyl and both the Hindemanns are over here, too. They have also been in Germany. You see, they are all entitled to call themselves Americans, although they are Germans at heart.'

'You think that there is some fresh scheme on?' she asked.

'I am perfectly certain there is,' he said firmly. 'Not only that, but I have an idea as to its bearing.... This is our friend. If you don't know him by sight, prepare for a shock.'

A small man, dressed in plain black clothes, with broad-toed shoes and a tie almost clerical in its simplicity, had entered the place and was handing his bowler hat to an attendant. His complexion was sallow, his general air one of complete insignificance. Suzanne watched the greeting between the two with intense interest. It was hard to realize that this was Ludwig Kessner, twenty times a millionaire.

The little man's speech and manners wholly belied his appearance. His assurance was unlimited. He talked easily and with confidence.

'Well, young fellow,' he exclaimed, 'so we are back in London, eh? Not late, am I?'

'Not a moment,' Lavendale assured him. 'I want to present you, if I may, to Miss de Freyne, who is lunching with us. Miss de Freyne,' he added, 'this is Mr. Kessner.'

She rose with a charming little smile and shook hands with him. Mr. Kessner seemed to see no reason why he should conceal his admiration. He walked close to her side as they entered the luncheon-room.

'Our young friend and I,' he remarked, 'were hanging over the side of a steamer, looking out for submarines, this time yesterday. Not particularly good for the appetite, that sort of thing.'

'I think it is very brave of you to have really crossed the North Sea,' Suzanne declared. 'I should have been terrified to death.'

'Business is business,' Mr. Kessner observed, 'and I am something of a fatalist myself. I go about what I have to do and take my chances. Same with Mr. Lavendale, I expect, only these diplomatists are used to it. Troublous times, Miss de Freyne, times such as I never dreamed we should see in our days. By the by, are you French or English?'

'French, English, and Austrian,' she told him, smiling, as they took their places at the table, 'so you see I represent neutrality in my own person. My grandmother was Austrian, and I have never been so happy as when I lived in Vienna.'

He nodded approvingly.

'Do you know,' he said, 'I am glad you are not altogether English. I don't know which way your sympathies may be in this trouble, and I don't know as it matters. We each of us have a right to our feelings, whatever they may be. I am an American first and foremost, like our friend here, only he has British blood in his veins behind it, and I have German. We can keep good friends for all that, though.'

'I think,' she sighed, 'that I am in a most trying position. I adore Austria and I have many relations there. I am very fond of France and I have some good friends in England. I am torn every way. After all, though,' she went on reflectively, 'it cannot be as hard for me as for you. You really are German, are you not, and yet you have to sit still and see America doing an enormous lot to help the Allies.'

He glanced at her keenly. Her sincerity was undoubted. Before he replied he looked also at the occupants of the next two tables, young people from the land of musical comedy with their khaki-clad escorts, intellectually negligible. Nevertheless, he lowered his voice a little as he answered.

'You are quite right, Miss de Freyne. It is one of the hardest nuts we have to crack, we German-Americans. We are honest and above-board about it, you see. We have worked like slaves to direct the policy of America our own way, and we've failed.'

'Is there nothing more you can do?' she asked earnestly.

There was a moment's silence. Mr. Kessner, with his napkin tucked in underneath his chin, was settling down to his luncheon like a man. Nevertheless, he again glanced searchingly at his neighbour.

'It is hard to see what can be done,' he said calmly. 'I have been in Germany to visit some of my relatives. It is very wonderful to hear them all talk there. There is no pessimism, no doubt whatever, no shadow of misgiving. Germany must win—that is in their hearts. They have not a single doubt. And here in London, whether the people deceive themselves or not, they say the same thing. They go about their business with even more assurance, and they indulge in pleasures far more freely.'

'Which is going to win?' she asked.

'Neither,' he replied. 'Neither has the preponderance of strength to smash the other. It will be a drawn fight. There will be a period of peace, nominal peace. Germany knows now what she has to face—a world in arms against her. When the next time comes, she will be ready.'

'There will be a next time, then?'

'Germany is not yet at the end of her resources,' he assured her. 'There are other ways in which she can make herself felt. But let us leave for a little time these serious subjects. This champagne, I know, my friend Lavendale, is a compliment to me. You English-Americans do not drink champagne in the middle of the day. Believe me, you are wrong. I drink your very good health, Miss de Freyne, and yours, Lavendale. And I drink also,' he added, his eyes lightening a little as he looked across the room, 'the unspoken toast!'

He set his glass down empty.

'There is an unspoken toast close to the heart of all of us, Miss de Freyne,' he remarked, 'one little secret we keep at the back of our thoughts. Now tell me. I sail on Saturday. On Friday night you and our friend Lavendale will give me the honour of your company at dinner, eh? It is arranged. At the Ritz at eight o'clock.'

'You are very kind,' they both murmured

He selected a cigar from a box which had been passed him, and rose a little abruptly.

'I go to speak with a friend,' he said—'a matter of business. For your excellent luncheon I thank you very much, and for the privilege of having met Miss de Freyne,' he added with a little bow, 'I thank you even more. Till Friday, then.'

He shuffled across the room, an ill-dressed, undignified figure, yet with a confidence which surpassed conceit. They saw him greet a compatriot and seat himself at the latter's table.

'That man,' Lavendale said, as he toyed with his coffee spoon, 'has at the back of his head some new scheme. It may not be directed against your people. I have an idea that it is more likely to be directed against mine.'

'But he is an American himself,' she protested.

'He is a German-American,' Lavendale replied, 'which means that he is very much a German and very little an American.'

'Whatever his new scheme may be,' she sighed, 'I do not think that he is disposed to talk about it.'

'Whatever it may be,' Lavendale replied, 'it is my business to find it out. One thing is absolutely certain. No American would receive the attentions of the Kaiser—in war time, too—and come back here without a word to say about it, unless there was something in the background, something he meant to keep secret.'

They strolled out into the entrance hall and Lavendale departed in search of his hat. A waiter came hurriedly out to Suzanne's side.

'For madame,' he whispered, slipping a little note into her hand.

Her fingers closed upon it quickly. She glanced around. Lavendale was still talking to some acquaintances. She opened it and read the few hastily pencilled lines:—

'It would give me a great deal of pleasure to see you again before Friday. I am in flat 74 in the Court here. Shall be alone all this afternoon.'

She crumpled up the note in her hand. Lavendale was coming towards her.

'Can I take you anywhere?' he asked. 'The car will be outside.'

She shook her head.

'Don't bother about me,' she said. 'I am going up to my room to write some letters.'

*****

'Come in!'

Suzanne turned the handle of number seventy-four, closed the door behind her and entered the sitting-room. Mr. Kessner turned around in his chair from before a mass of papers. He looked at Suzanne for an instant in surprise, an expression which, as he recognized her, changed quickly into one of satisfaction. He rose to his feet and came towards her.

'This is a great pleasure, my dear young lady,' he said. 'I scarcely dared to hope——'

He took her hands, but she evaded him with a little smile.

'You see, we are neighbours almost,' she explained. 'I have an apartment here when I am in London. I thought I would call in and see you on the way to my room. But, please—do you mind?'

She pushed him gently away from her. For a moment his face darkened. Then, with a shrug of the shoulders, he threw himself into the easy-chair opposite, a shapeless, ill-dressed little morsel of humanity, with a queer intelligence shining out of his narrowed eyes, suggested, too, in the square forehead and puckered brows.

'Listen, young lady,' he said. 'Do you know why I asked you to come and see me?'

She raised her eyebrows and laughed at him.

'Because you like me, I hope,' she replied. 'For myself, I love making fresh acquaintances amongst clever men.'

'Acquaintances?' he repeated slowly.

She nodded several times.

'I am not one of those,' she said, 'who can gather the whole world in without a pause. I like to make acquaintances. Sometimes an acquaintance may become a friend. Sometimes—but that takes time.'

She felt the steely light of his eyes upon her and looked modestly down upon the carpet.

'Well,' he went on, 'there were two reasons why I sent for you. One I think you have surmised, and you keep it there at the back of your pretty little head. The other—well, you are a young person of intelligence and mixed nationality. I thought it possible that you might be of use to me.'

'But in what manner?' she demanded.

'I was frank with you at luncheon-time,' he said. 'You know where my sympathies lie. Yours, I gathered, are divided. Would it be possible, I wonder, to induce you to look my way?'

'But you yourself admitted,' she reminded him, 'that the cause of Germany in America is lost. What more is there to be done?'

'Young lady,' he replied, 'the cause of Germany in America may be lost for the moment so far as regards our efforts to induce the present administration to carry into effect an ethical neutrality. But the great source of Germany's greatness is her capacity for looking ahead. If one cause is lost, then in that day a new one is born. If Germany had not foreseen and prepared for this war for forty years, she would have been crushed to-day. Now we who are her sons in foreign countries, our eyes, too, are fixed upon the future.'

'Then you have a new scheme,' she said quietly.

'We have a new scheme,' he admitted, 'but what that may be it is not my intention to tell you at present.'

She pouted at once.

'Of course, if you are not going to trust me——'

'You must not be a foolish child,' he interrupted. 'You would think little of me if I did, and besides,' he added, rising to his feet, 'I am not sure yet that I do trust you. Wait.'

He touched the bell. Almost immediately the door of the sitting-room was opened. She gave a little start. An immense coloured man in dark clothes stood respectfully in the doorway.

'George,' his master directed, 'if any one rings, I am engaged. See that I am not disturbed on any pretext.'

'Very good, Mr. Kessner!

The man closed the door with wonderful softness. Even his footsteps, as he retreated into the bedroom, were inaudible. Kessner's elbow was propped against the mantelpiece, his head supported in his thin, yellow-stained fingers. He looked down at her.

'If you do not trust me,' she persisted, 'how can I be of help to you?'

'I might put you to the test,' he said slowly.

There was nothing distinctly threatening in his tone, and yet all at once she was afraid. The thought of that black Hercules loitering outside, something in the downward droop of the eyes of this man all the time edging a little nearer to her, seemed suddenly to become terrifying. Nevertheless, she refused to flinch.

'I do not like riddles,' she declared. 'Perhaps you had better think over more definitely what you want to say to me, before Friday night, or send a note up to my room.'

'There is no necessity,' he replied. 'What I have to say to you is already quite clear in my mind.'

He moved still nearer, stood over the couch by her side. Then the outside bell rang. He paused to listen. Her heart gave a little jump as a familiar voice asked for Mr. Kessner.

'It is Mr. Lavendale!' she exclaimed under her breath. 'Don't let him find me here!'

His features relaxed. He laughed and patted her hand. She could have said nothing to inspire him with more confidence.

'Of course not,' he replied indulgently. 'Don't be afraid. George would tell him that I was engaged. He had my orders to let no one in.'

'But I heard him say that he would wait!' she persisted anxiously. 'Cannot I hide somewhere for a moment while you see him and send him away?'

George made a discreet appearance.

'A gentleman inquiring for you, sir,' he said. 'He is waiting outside in the corridor. I told him that you would be a long time.'

Mr. Kessner considered for a moment.

'Would you mind stepping into my sleeping apartment?' he asked Suzanne.

She sprang up at once.

'You will get rid of him quickly?' she begged.

He pressed her hand affectionately. She endured his touch without flinching. He handed her over to George and pointed to the door of his room.

'Give the young lady a chair inside,' he ordered. 'I will see Mr. Lavendale.'

She was ushered into a bedroom and a moment or two later she heard Lavendale announced. Then George returned, handed her some American papers and disappeared into the bathroom beyond. She rose to her feet as he closed the door. The sound of Lavendale's voice was muffled and inaudible. She glanced around the room. It was tastefully but very plainly furnished. There was nothing about on the mantelpiece or bureau likely to be of the slightest interest. Suddenly her heart gave a little jump. George came out of the bathroom with a coat upon his arm, threw open the bureau and searched there for something. As he stood there, a thin, black silk pocket-book slipped from the breast-pocket of the coat and fell unnoticed on to the carpet. A moment later he closed the bureau, laid the coat carefully out upon the bed and withdrew into the bathroom, closing the door. Suzanne held her breath for a single moment. Then she stole across the floor, seized the pocket-book, opened the bedroom door stealthily, and with a little gulp of relief passed out into the corridor. She ran up the stairs to her own room, gripping the pocket-book in her hand. Arrived there, she locked the door, took up the telephone and spoke to the hall-porter.

'Please don't let Mr. Lavendale go out,' she directed. 'When he comes downstairs send him up to my room—say that I wish to see him at once.'

She slipped the pocket-book into the bosom of her dress and waited. In a few minutes there was a ring at the bell. Lavendale stood outside.

'Come in at once,' she begged.

He hesitated, but she dragged him in.

'Do not be foolish!' she exclaimed. 'Shut the door. You have just left Mr. Kessner?'

'Yes,' he admitted.

'Why did you go there?'

'To see if you were getting yourself into any trouble,' he answered grimly.

'You knew?'

He nodded.

'Yes, I knew!'

She drew the pocket-book from the bosom of her gown.

'Listen,' she said, 'I am terrified. I picked this up from the bedroom. It slipped out of the pocket of his dinner-coat. I haven't even dared to look inside.'

He moved to the door and locked it, came back and shook the contents out on to the table. There was a great roll of notes, some visiting cards, some notes copied from a German time-table, a long list of names, and a single letter on thick, cream paper. Suzanne stole to the door on tiptoe and stood there, listening. There was no sound in the corridor, no sound in the apartment at all except a smothered exclamation or two from Lavendale. Presently he called to her. He was holding the papers in his hand.

'Miss de Freyne,' he whispered, 'listen.'

She caught him by the sleeve. There was a ponderous knocking at the door, the shrill summons of the bell rang through the room. Lavendale hesitated for a moment. Then he slipped the book into his inside pocket and threw open the door. Mr. Kessner's black servant was standing outside.

'The master has sent his compliments,' he said, 'and would be glad to know——'

He glanced at Suzanne. It was obvious that Lavendale's presence in the room embarrassed him. Then he was suddenly pushed on one side and back into the corridor. Mr. Kessner himself came quietly in and closed the door behind him. There was a queer little gleam in his eyes, but his manner was unruffled. He tried the handle of the door to be sure that it was closed. Then he turned towards Suzanne.

'Will a million dollars,' he asked, 'buy me back my pocket-book?'

Lavendale drew it from his pocket and promptly handed it across.

'My dear Mr. Kessner,' he remonstrated, 'you are surely not serious! Miss de Freyne was just explaining her little escapade to me and I was coming in search of you.'

Mr. Kessner took no notice of either of them for several moments. He ran through the contents of the pocket-book, then he slowly thrust it into his pocket.

'I shall have the pleasure,' he said, 'on Friday night? You will not forget—the Ritz at eight o'clock?'

'Charmed,' Lavendale murmured.

'Delighted,' Suzanne faltered.

He made a little bow—an ugly, awkward bow—and left the room. There was nothing in his manner to indicate what his sensations were. Lavendale and Suzanne looked at one another.

'Was there anything very important there?' she asked.

He laughed.

'Nothing from your point of view, but everything from mine,' he told her. 'There was a list of forty-two names of German-Americans, each giving a million dollars towards a specific purpose. There was a plan of a few remaining estates in a certain part of Brazil, still to be purchased to establish what at some seasonable juncture should be declared to be a German colony. Some slight trouble with the Government of Brazil, a German gunboat, and behold!—German South America and to Hell with the Monroe Doctrine! A very admirable scheme, only——'

'Only what?'

'I don't fancy that, thanks to you, those estates will ever come into the market,' he remarked dryly, 'not for a German purchaser, at any rate.'

She glanced uneasily towards the door.

'Mr. Lavendale,' she said earnestly 'I am terrified!'

'Why?'

'I am afraid of Mr. Kessner,' she confessed. 'He took it much too quietly.'

Lavendale shrugged his shoulders.

'A man of his temperament,' he said, 'seldom wastes his time or his emotions. He was playing for a great stake which he knows now that he will lose. At the same time, he has lost purely through accident.'

She suddenly smiled.

'I wonder,' she exclaimed, 'whether he really expects us to dine with him at the Ritz on Friday night!'

'We'll go and see, at any rate,' Lavendale declared.