re--his
voice only was not altogether natural.

"Last day or two?" he repeated reflectively. "No, I can't say that
I have, Miss Abbeway. I needn't remind you that we don't risk
communications except when they are necessary."

"Will you try and get into touch with him at once?" she begged.

"Why?" Fenn asked, glancing at her searchingly.

"One of our Russian writers," she said, "once wrote that there are a
thousand eddies in the winds of chance. One of those has blown my way
to-day--or rather yesterday. Freistner is above all suspicion, is he
not?"

"Far above," was the confident reply. "I am not the only one who knows
him. Ask the others."

"Do you think it possible that he himself can have been deceived?" she
persisted.

"In what manner?"

"In his own strength--the strength of his own Party," she proceeded
eagerly. "Do you think it possible that the Imperialists have pretended
to recognise in him a far greater factor in the situation than he
really is? Have pretended to acquiesce in these terms of peace with the
intention of repudiating them when we have once gone too far?"

Fenn seemed for a moment to have shrunk in his chair. His eyes had
fallen before her passionate gaze. The penholder which he was grasping
snapped in his fingers. Nevertheless, his voice still performed its
office.

"My dear Miss Abbeway," he protested, "who or what has been putting
these ideas into your head?"

"A veritable chance," she replied, "brought me yesterday afternoon into
contact with a man--a neutral--who is supposed to be very intimately
acquainted with what goes on in Germany."

"What did he tell you?" Fenn demanded feverishly.

"He told me nothing," she admitted. "I have no more to go on than an
uplifted eyebrow. All the same, I came away feeling uneasy. I have felt
wretched ever since. I am wretched now. I beg you to get at once into
touch with Freistner. You can do that now without any risk. Simply ask
him for a confirmation of the existing situation."

"That is quite easy," Fenn promised. "I will do it without delay. But
in the meantime," he added, moistening his dry lips, "can't you possibly
get to know what this man--this neutral--is driving at?"

"I fear not," she replied, "but I shall try. I have invited him to dine
to-night."

"If you discover anything, when shall you let us know?"

"Immediately," she promised. "I shall telephone for Mr. Orden."

For a moment he lost control of himself.

"Why Mr. Orde