ome. Madame was gracious, but was he really stupid or
only very much in earnest?

"To be one of the world's money kings," she whispered, "it is
wonderful--that. It is power--supreme, absolute power. There is nothing
beyond, there is nothing greater."

Then the Baron, who was watching her closely, caught another gleam in
her eyes, and he began to understand. He had seen it before among a
certain type of her countrywomen--the greed of money. He looked at
her jewels and he remembered that, for an ambassador, her husband was
reputed to be a poor man. The cloud of misgiving passed away from him;
he settled down to the game.

"If money could only buy the desire of one's heart," he murmured.
"Alas!"

His eyes seemed to seek out Monsieur de Lamborne among the moving
throngs. She laughed softly, and her hand brushed his.

"Money and one other thing, Monsieur le Baron," she whispered in his
ear, "can buy the jewels from a crown--can buy, even, the heart of a
woman--"

A movement of approaching guests caught them up, and parted them for a
time. The Baroness de Grost was at home from ten till one, and her rooms
were crowded. The Baron found himself drawn on one side, a few minutes
later, by Monsieur de Lamborne himself.

"I have been looking for you, De Grost," the latter declared. "Where can
we talk for a moment?"

His host took the ambassador by the arm and led him into a retired
corner. Monsieur de Lamborne was a tall, slight man, somewhat cadaverous
looking, with large features, hollow eyes, thin but carefully arranged
gray hair, and a pointed gray beard. He wore a frilled shirt, and an
eye-glass suspended by a broad black ribbon hung down upon his chest.
His face, as a rule, was imperturbable enough, but he had the air, just
now, of a man greatly disturbed.

"We cannot be overheard here," De Grost remarked. "It must be an affair
of a few words only, though."

Monsieur de Lamborne wasted no time in preliminaries. "This afternoon,"
he said, "I received from my Government papers of immense importance,
which I am to hand over to your Foreign Minister at eleven o'clock
to-morrow morning."

The Baron nodded.

"Well?"

De Lamborne's thin fingers trembled as they played nervously with the
ribbon of his eye-glass.

"Listen," he continued, dropping his voice a little. "Bernadine has
undertaken to send a copy of their contents to Berlin by to-morrow
night's mail."

"How do you know that?"

The ambassador hesitated