air. Will you come?" he asked.

"I think not, dear," was her reply. "I have a little headache--the sun,
I think--so I shall rest."

"Very well. I'll have a drive alone."

"Let's see," she exclaimed; "didn't you say you were going out
to-night?"

"Yes, dear, to Polivin's. There's a man-party this evening. You don't
mind, do you? I promised him some time ago, and for political reasons I
desire to be friendly. I shan't go till ten o'clock, and no doubt you
will go to bed early."

"By all means go, dear," she said, very sweetly. "I--I had forgotten the
day."

It was not often he left her alone of an evening when they were together
during the recess. In the London season she was, as a political hostess,
often compelled to go out alone, while he, too, had frequently to attend
functions where it was impossible for her to be present. Sometimes,
indeed, days and days passed and they only met at breakfast.
Frequently, too, he was so engrossed in affairs of State that, though he
was in the house, yet he was closeted hours and hours with Darnborough,
with some high Foreign Office official, an ambassador, or a Cabinet
Minister.

That big, sombre room of his in the dark, gloomy London mansion was
indeed a room of political secrets, just as was his private room at the
Foreign Office. If those walls could but speak, what strange tales they
might tell--tales of clever juggling with the Powers, of ingenious
counter-plots against conspiracies ever arising to disturb the European
peace, plots concocted by Britain's enemies across the seas, and the
evolution of master strokes of foreign policy.

"Are you quite sure you prefer not to go for a drive this afternoon?" he
asked, looking across at her.

"No, really, dear. I don't feel at all fit. It is the excessive heat. It
was awfully oppressive on the beach."

"Very well, dear. Rest then, and get right by the time I get in for
tea."

She looked at him from beneath her half-closed lashes.

Why had he asked her whether she had met anyone she knew that morning?
It was not a usual question of his.

Could he know anything? Had he been present and seen the meeting?

No, that was impossible. He had been at home all the morning. She had
made enquiry of Jenner as she came in, so as to satisfy herself.

Yet there was a strange suspicion in his manner, she thought. It may
have been her fancy, nevertheless he seemed unduly curious, and that
question of his had set her wondering.

For