n to bring you a box of chocolates? Why am I not
measuring out calico in Shipley & West's? Instead, we are going to
Frau Schwarz', to listen to cold ham and scorched compote eaten in six
different languages."

Harmony made no immediate reply. He seemed to expect none. She was
drawing on her gloves, her eyes, like his, roving over the crowd.

Far back among the tables a young man rose and yawned. Then,
seeing Byrne, he waved a greeting to him. Byrne's eyes, from being
introspective, became watchful.

The young man was handsome in a florid, red-checked way, with black hair
and blue eyes. Unlike Byrne, he was foppishly neat. He was not alone. A
slim little Austrian girl, exceedingly chic, rose when he did and threw
away the end of a cigarette.

"Why do we go so soon?" she demanded fretfully in German. "It is early
still."

He replied in English. It was a curious way they had, and eminently
satisfactory, each understanding better than he spoke the other's
language.

"Because, my beloved," he said lightly, "you are smoking a great many
poisonous and highly expensive cigarettes. Also I wish to speak to
Peter."

The girl followed his eyes and stiffened jealously.

"Who is that with Peter?"

"We are going over to find out, little one. Old Peter with a woman at
last!"

The little Austrian walked delicately, swaying her slim body with a slow
and sensuous grace. She touched an officer as she passed him, and paused
to apologize, to the officer's delight and her escort's irritation. And
Peter Byrne watched and waited, a line of annoyance between his brows.
The girl was ahead; that complicated things.

When she was within a dozen feet of the table he rose hastily, with a
word of apology, and met the couple. It was adroitly done. He had taken
the little Austrian's arm and led her by the table while he was still
greeting her. He held her in conversation in his absurd German until
they had reached the swinging doors, while her companion followed
helplessly. And he bowed her out, protesting his undying admiration for
her eyes, while the florid youth alternately raged behind him and stared
back at Harmony, interested and unconscious behind her table.

The little Austrian was on the pavement when Byrne turned, unsmiling, to
the other man.

"That won't do, you know, Stewart," he said, grave but not unfriendly.

"The Kid wouldn't bite her."

"We'll not argue about it."

After a second's awkward pause Stewart smiled.