tless thinking
me--something of a _poseur_. Perhaps I do like making a tax upon
your sober British rectitude. I will admit that the spirit of
adventure is in my heart; I will admit that there is in my blood
the desire to take from him who hath and give to him who hath not;
but, on the other hand, I have my standards, and I seriously do not
think that you would be risking very much if you accepted my
invitation to lunch to-day."

Arnold held out his hand.

"If I hesitate for a single moment," he replied frankly, "it is
because of my work here. However, as you say that Mrs. Weatherley
will be there, I will come."

"We shall look forward to the pleasure, then," Sabatini concluded.
"Now I will leave you to go on with your money-coining. Au revoir!"

He strolled gracefully out, pausing on his way through the clerk's
office to offer a courteous farewell to Mr. Jarvis. The great
automobile glided away. Arnold came back from the window and sat
down in front of his desk. Before his eyes was a pile of invoices,
in his brain a strange medley of facts and fancies.

Mr. Jarvis came bustling in.

"About those Canadian hams, Chetwode," he began,--

Arnold recognized the voice of his saviour.

"We'll go into the matter at once," he declared, briskly.

CHAPTER XXXI

A LUNCHEON-PARTY

It seemed to Arnold that he had passed, indeed, into a different
world as he followed Count Sabatini's austere looking butler across
the white stone hall into the cool dining-room, where the little
party which he had come to join was already at luncheon. Outside, an
unexpected heat seemed to have baked the streets and drained the
very life from the air. Here the blinds were closely drawn; the
great height of the room with its plain, faultless decorations, its
piles of sweet-smelling flowers, and the faint breeze that came
through the Venetian blinds, made it like a little oasis of coolness
and repose. The luncheon-party consisted of four people--Count
Sabatini himself, Lady Blennington, Fenella, and a young man whom
Arnold had seen once before, attached to one of the Legations.
Fenella held out both her hands.

"I'm afraid I am late," Arnold said.

"It is my fault for not mentioning the hour," Sabatini interposed.
"We are continental in our tastes and we like to breakfast early."

"In any case, you would be forgiven," Fenella declared, "for this,
as you know, is our party of reconciliation."

"What, have you two been quarreling?