ay, when his
hostess smilingly beckoned him away.

"The Emperor has just asked Miss Mowbray to teach him some
old-fashioned Scotch or English air (I'm afraid I don't quite know the
difference!) called 'Annie Laurie,'" the Baroness explained. "He was
charmed with it when she sang the other evening, and I've been
assuring him that the song would exactly suit his voice. We mustn't
disturb them while the lesson is going on. Tell me--I've hardly had a
moment to ask you--how did you find the Chancellor?"

Chained to a forced allegiance, Egon mechanically answered the
questions of the Baroness without making absurd mistakes, the while
his ears burned to hear what was going on behind the white curtain.

Everybody knew of the music lesson, now, and chatted in tones of
tactful monotony, never speaking too loudly to disturb the singers,
never too cautiously, lest they should seem to listen. Once, and then
again, the creamy _mezzo soprano_ and the rich tenor that was almost a
baritone, sang conscientiously through the verses of "Annie Laurie"
from beginning to end; then a few desultory chords were struck on the
piano; and at last there was silence behind the white curtains, in the
music room.

Were the two still there? To interrupt such a tete-a-tete seemed out
of the question, but not to know what was happening Egon found too
hard to bear, and the arrival of a telegram for Lady Mowbray came as
opportunely as if Providence had had his special needs in mind.

Evidently it was not a pleasant telegram, for, as she read it, the
Dresden china lady showed plainly that she was disconcerted. Her
pretty face lost its color; her eyes dilated as if she had tasted a
drop of belladonna on sugar; she patted her lips with her lace
handkerchief, and finally rose from her chair, looking dazed and
distressed.

"I've had rather bad news," she admitted to Baroness von Lyndal, who
was all solicitude. "Oh, nothing really serious, I trust, but still,
disquieting. It is from a dear friend. I think I had better go to my
room, and talk things over with Helen. Would you be kind enough to
tell her when she comes in that she's to follow me there? Don't send
for her till then; it's not necessary. But I shall want her by and
by."

It was clear that Lady Mowbray did not wish her daughter to be
disturbed. Still, Egon von Breitstein thought he might fairly let his
anxiety run away with him. As the Baroness accompanied her guest to
the door, he took it upo