Rudolph Von Behrling, you are indeed the Chancellor’s secretary. What do you gain from it? A pittance! Many hours work a day and a pittance. What have you to look forward to? A little official life, a stupid official position. Rudolph, here am I, and there is the world. Do I not represent other things?” 

 “God knows you do!” he muttered. 

 “I, too, am weary of singing. I want a long rest—a long rest and a better name than my own. Don’t shrink away from me. It isn’t so wonderful, after all. Bellamy, the Englishman, came to me a few hours ago. He was Dorward’s friend. He knew well what Dorward carried. It was not his affair, he told me, and interposition from him was hopeless, but he knew that you and I were friends.” 

 “You must stop!” Von Behrling declared. “You must stop! I must not listen to this!” 

 “He offered me twenty thousand pounds,” she went on, “for the packet in your pocket. Think of that, my friend. It would be a start in life, would it not? I am an extravagant woman. Even if I would, I dared not think of a poor man. But twenty thousand pounds is sufficient. When I reach London, I am going to a flat which has been waiting for me for weeks—15, Dover Street. If you bring that packet to me instead of taking it to the Austrian Embassy, there will be twenty thousand pounds and—” 

 Her fingers suddenly held his. She could almost hear his heart beating. Her eyes, by now accustomed to the gloom, could see the tumult which was passing within the man, reflected in his face. She whispered a warning under her breath. The two cigar ends had moved nearer. The forms of the two men were now distinct. One was leaning over the side of the ship by Von Behrling’s side. The other stood a few feet away, gazing at the lights of Dover. Von Behrling staggered to his feet. He said something in an angry undertone to Streuss. Louise rose and shook out her furs. 

 “My friend,” she said, turning to Von Behrling, “if your friends can spare you so long, will you fetch one of my maids? You will find them both in my cabin, number three. I wish to walk for a few moments before we arrive.” 

 Von Behrling turned away like a man in a dream. Mademoiselle Idiale followed him slowly, and behind her came Von Behrling’s companions. 

 The details of the great singer’s journey had been most carefully planned by an excited manager who had received the telegram announcing her journey to London. There was 

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