twinkle in his eyes, "but I flatter myself that I have brought a new
note into diplomacy. I was always taught that there were thirty-seven
different ways of telling a lie, which is to state a diplomatic fact. I
have swept them all away. I tell the truth."

"How daring," Maggie murmured, "and how wonderfully original! What
should you say, now, if I asked you if my nose wanted powdering?"

"I should start by saying that the question was outside the sphere of my
activities," he decided. "I should then proceed to add, as a private
person, that a little dab on the left side would do it no harm."

"I begin to believe," she confessed, "that all I have heard of you is
true."

"Tell me exactly what you have heard," he begged. "Leave out everything
that isn't nice. I thrive on praise and good reports."

"To begin with, then, that you are an extraordinarily shrewd young man,"
she replied, "that you speak seven languages perfectly and know your way
about every capital of Europe, and that you have ideas of your own as to
what is going to happen during the next six or seven years."

"You've been moving in well-informed circles," he admitted. "Now shall I
proceed to turn the tables upon you?"

"You can't possibly know anything about me," she declared confidently.

"I could tell you what I've discovered from personal observation," he
replied.

"That sounds like compliments or candour," she murmured. "I'm terrified
of both."

"Well, I guess I'm not out to frighten you," he assured her. "I'll keep
the secrets of my heart hidden--until after luncheon, at any rate---and
just ask you--how you enjoyed your stay in Berlin?"

Maggie's manner changed. She lowered her voice.

"In Berlin?" she repeated.

"In the household of the erstwhile leather manufacturer, the present
President, Herr Essendorf. I hope you liked those fat children. They
always seemed to me loathsome little brats."

"What do you know about my stay in Berlin?" she demanded.

"Everything there is to be known," he answered. "To tell you the truth,
our people there were a trifle anxious about you. I was the little angel
watching from above."

"You are, without a doubt," Maggie pronounced, "a most interesting young
man. We will talk together presently."

"A hint which sends me back to my mutton," the young man observed.
"Dorminster," he added, turning to his host, "I heard the other day, on
very good authority, that you were thinking of writing a novel. If you