and annoyance, if not of danger.
He was being invited, without the option of refusal, to enter upon some
risky undertaking which would yield him neither fee nor reward. Yet his
common sense told him that it was part of the game. In Paris, he had
looked upon his admittance into the order of the "Double-Four" as one of
the stepping-stones to success in his career. Through them he had gained
knowledge which he could have acquired in no other way. Through them,
for instance, he had acquired the information that Madame la Comtesse de
Pilitz was a Servian patriot and a friend of the Crown Prince; and that
the Count von Hern, posing in England as a sportsman and an idler, was a
highly paid and dangerous Austrian spy. There had been other occasions,
too, upon which they had come to his aid. Now they had made an appeal
to him--an appeal which must be obeyed. His time--perhaps, even, his
safety--must be placed entirely at their disposal. It was only an
ordinary return a thing expected of him--a thing which he dared not
refuse. Yet he knew very well what he could not explain to them--that
the whole success of his life depended so absolutely upon his remaining
free from any suspicion of wrong-doing, that he had received his summons
with something like dismay, and proceeded to obey it with unaccustomed
reluctance.

He drove to Cirey's cafe in Regent Street, where he dismissed the driver
of his hansom and strolled in with the air of an habitue. He selected a
corner table, ordered some refreshment, and asked for a box of dominoes.
The place was fairly well filled. A few women were sitting about; a
sprinkling of Frenchmen were taking their aperitif; here and there a
man of affairs, on his way from the city, had called in for a glass
of vermouth. Peter Ruff looked them over, recognizing the
type--recognizing, even, some of their faces. Apparently, the person
whom he was to meet had not yet arrived.

He lit a cigarette and smoked slowly. Presently the door opened and a
woman entered in a long fur coat, a large hat, and a thick veil. She
raised it to glance around, disclosing the unnaturally pale face and
dark, swollen eyes of a certain type of Frenchwoman. She seemed to
notice no one in particular. Her eyes traveled over Peter Ruff without
any sign of interest. Nevertheless, she took a seat somewhere near his
and ordered some vermouth from the waiter, whom she addressed by
name. When she had been served and the waiter had departed, she