ished his task before
a servant brought in a dispatch. He opened it with interest and drew
pencil and paper towards him. It was from Paris, and in the code which
he had learned by heart, no written key of which existed. Carefully he
transposed it on to paper and read it through. It was dated from Paris a
few hours back.

Kosuth left for England yesterday. Envoy from new Turkish Government.
Requiring loan one million pounds. Asked for guarantee that it was
not for warlike movement against Bulgaria, declined to give same.
Communicated with English Ambassador and informed Kosuth yesterday that
neither government would sanction loan unless undertaking were given
that the same was not to be applied for war against Bulgaria. Turkey
is under covenant to enter into no financial obligations with any other
Power while the interest of former loans remains in abeyance. Kosuth
has made two efforts to obtain loan privately, from prominent English
financier and French Syndicate. Both have declined to treat on
representations from government. Kosuth was expected return direct to
Turkey. If, as you say, he is in England with Bernadine, we commend the
affair to your utmost vigilance. Germany exceedingly anxious enter into
close relations with new government of Turkey. Fear Kosuth's association
with Bernadine proof of bad faith. Have had interview with Minister for
foreign affairs, who relies upon our help. French Secret Service at your
disposal, if necessary.

Peter read the message three times with the greatest care. He was on the
point of destroying it when Violet came into the room. She was wearing
a long tea jacket of sheeny silk. Her beautiful hair was most becomingly
arranged, her figure as light and girlish as ever. She came into the
room humming gayly and swinging a gold purse upon her finger.

"Won three rubbers out of four, Peter," she declared, "and a compliment
from the Duchess. Am I a pupil to be proud of?"

She stopped short. Her lips formed themselves into the shape of a
whistle. She knew very well the signs. Her husband's eyes were kindling,
there was a firm set about his lips, the palm of his hand lay flat upon
that sheet of paper.

"It was true?" she murmured. "It was Bernadine who was shooting to-day?"

Peter nodded.

"He was on the next stand," he replied.

"Then there is something doing, of course," Violet continued. "My dear
Peter, you may be an enigma to other people. To me you have the most
expressive co