emperor's. There is no haven in the universe
to which he does not hold the key. Look at him--master of the world!"

Peter shivered. There was something depressing in the sight of that
mournful procession.

"He neither smokes nor drinks," Sogrange continued. "Women, as a sex, do
not exist for him. His religion is a doubting Calvinism. He has a doctor
and a clergyman always by his side to inject life and hope if they can.
Look at him well, my friend. He represents a great moral lesson."

"Thanks!" Peter replied. "I am going to take the taste of him out of my
mouth with a whisky and soda. Afterwards, I'm for the Duchesse."

But the Duchesse, apparently, was not for Peter. He found her in the
music-room, with several of the little Marconi missives spread out
before her, and she cut him dead. Peter, however, was a brave man and
skilled at the game of bluff. So he stopped by her side and, without any
preamble, addressed her.

"Duchesse," he said, "you are a woman of perception. Which do you
believe, then, in your heart, to be the more trustworthy--the Count von
Hern or I?"

She simply stared at him. He continued promptly:

"You have received your warning, I see."

"From whom?"

"From the Count von Hern. Why believe what he says? He may be a friend
of yours--he may be a dear friend--but in your heart you know that he is
both unscrupulous and selfish. Why accept his word and distrust me? I,
at least, am honest."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Honest?" she repeated. "Whose word have I for that save your own? And
what concern is it of mine if you possess every one of the _bourgeois_
qualities in the world? You are presuming, sir."

"My friend Sogrange will tell you that I am to be trusted," Peter
persisted.

"I see no reason why I should trouble myself about your personal
characteristics," she replied coldly. "They do not interest me."

"On the contrary, Duchesse," Peter continued, fencing wildly, "you have
never in your life been more in need of anyone's services than you are
of mine."

The conflict was uneven. The Duchesse was a nervous, highly strung
woman. The calm assurance of Peter's manner oppressed her with a sense
of his mastery. She sank back upon the couch from which she had arisen.

"I wish you would tell me what you mean," she said. "You have no right
to talk to me in this fashion. What have you to do with my affairs?"

"I have as much to do with them as the Count von Hern," Peter insisted
boldly.