“Why, what’s wrong with him?” Ivor began to be distressed.

“Only that he’s a personal friend of my worst enemy—­the man I spoke of to you this evening—­Count Godensky.  I’ve heard so from Godensky himself, who mentioned the acquaintance once when Girard had just succeeded in a case everybody was talking about.”

“By Jove, what a beastly coincidence!” exclaimed Ivor, horribly disappointed at having done exactly the wrong thing, when he had tried so hard to do the right one.  “Yet how could I have dreamed of it?”

“You couldn’t,” I admitted, hopelessly.  “Nothing is your fault.  All that’s happened would have happened just the same, no matter what messenger the Foreign Secretary had sent to me.  It’s fate.  And it’s my punishment.”

“Still, even if Godensky and Girard are friends,” Ivor tried to console me, “it isn’t likely that the Count has talked to the detective about you and the affair of the treaty.”

“He may have gone to him for help in finding out things he couldn’t find out himself.”

“Hardly, I should say, until there’d been time for him to fear failure.  No, the chances are that Girard will have no inner knowledge of the matter I’ve put into his hands; and if he’s a man of honour, he’s bound to do the best he can for me, as his employer.  Have you seen du Laurier?”

“Yes.  At the theatre.  Nothing bad had happened to him yet; but that brute Godensky has made dreadful mischief between us.  If only I’d known that you would be so late, I might have explained everything to him.”

“I’m very sorry,” said Ivor, so humbly and so sadly that I pitied him (but not half as much as I pitied myself, even though I hadn’t forgotten that hint he had let drop about a great sacrifice—­a girl he loved, whom he had thrown over, somehow, to come to me).  “I made every effort to be in time.  It seems a piece with the rest of my horrible luck to-day that I was prevented.  I hope, at least, that du Laurier knows about the necklace?”

“He does, by this,” I answered.  “Yet I’m afraid he won’t be in a mood to take much comfort from it—­thanks to that wretch.  You know Raoul hasn’t a practical bone in his body.  He will think I’ve deceived him, and nothing else will matter.  I must—­” But I broke off, and laid my hand on Ivor’s arm.  “What’s that?” I whispered.  “Did you hear anything then?”

Ivor shook his head.  And we both listened.

“It’s a step outside, on the gravel path,” said I, my heart beginning to knock against my side.  “I forgot to lock the gate.  Somebody has come into the garden.  What if it should be Raoul—­what if he has seen our shadows on the curtain?”

Mechanically we moved apart, Ivor making a gesture to reassure me, on account of the position of the lights.  He was right.  Our shadows couldn’t have fallen on the curtain.

As we stood listening, there came a knock at the front door.  It was Raoul’s knock.  I was sure of that.