in an armour of isolation; you are
ready all the time to repel some deep-laid scheme, you are relieved to
discover that, so far, at any rate, this terrible Bernadine and his
beautiful travelling companion have not forced themselves upon you. Is
it not so?"

Peter shrugged his shoulders.

"It is the south wind," he remarked, "which carries us across so quickly
to-night."

"The south wind, without a doubt," Bernadine assented politely. "Dear
Baron, my congratulations are sincere. No one can come into the
battlefield, the real battlefield of life, without finding enemies there
waiting for him. You and I represent different causes. When our
interests clash, I shall not try to throw you off a Channel boat, or to
buy you with a cheque, or to hand you over to the tender mercies of the
beautiful Mademoiselle Delucie. Until then, have no fear, my British
friend. I shall not even ask you to drink with me, for I know that you
would look suspiciously into the tumbler. _Au revoir_, and good
fortune!"

Bernadine passed into the shadows and sank into a steamer chair by the
side of his travelling companion. Peter continued his lonely walk, his
hands thrust deep into the pockets of his overcoat, his eyes fixed upon
the Folkestone lights, becoming every moment clearer and clearer.

* * * * *

At Charing Cross all was as Sogrange had indicated. His servant remained
to look after the luggage, a tall footman conducted him towards a
magnificent automobile. Then, indeed, he forgot Bernadine and all this
new stir of life--forgot everything in a sudden rush of joy. It was
Violet who leaned forward to greet him--Violet, looking her best, and
altogether at her ease amongst this new splendour.

"Welcome, Monsieur le Baron!" she whispered as he took his place by her
side.

He took her hands and held them tightly, closely.

"I always knew," he murmured, "that you hankered after a title."

"Such a snob, aren't I!" she exclaimed. "Never mind, you wait!"

They were moving rapidly westward now. A full moon was shining down upon
the city, the streets were thronged with pedestrians and a block of
vehicles. The Carlton was all ablaze. In the softening light Pall Mall
had become a stately thoroughfare, the Haymarket and Regent Street
picturesque with moving throngs, a stream of open cabs, women in cool
evening dresses, men without hats or overcoats, on their way from the
theatres. It was a vivid, almost a fascina