Without stopping to think more, I rolled over and let myself sink down into the narrow space between the low couch and the wall, sharply pulling the clinging folds of my chiffon dress after me.  Then I lay still, my blood pounding in my temples and ears, and in my nostrils a faint, musty smell from the Oriental stuff that covered the lounge.

I could see nothing from where I lay, except the side of the couch, the wall, and a bit of the ceiling with the gargoyley cornice which Di had mentioned when she wanted to seem indifferent to the subject of our conversation.  But I was listening with all my might for what was to come.

“Better lock the door, if you please, Dundas,” said a voice, which gave me a shock of surprise, though I knew it well.

Instead of Di, it was the Foreign Secretary who spoke.

“We won’t run the risk of interruptions,” he went on, with that slow, clear enunciation of his which most Oxford men have, and keep all their lives, especially men of the college that was his—­Balliol.  “I told Mountstuart that I wanted a private chat with you.  Beyond that, he knows nothing, nor does anyone else except myself.  You understand that this conversation of ours, whether anything comes of it or not, is entirely confidential.  I have a proposal to make.  You’ll agree to it or not, as you choose.  But if you don’t agree, forget it, with everything I may have said.”

“My services and my memory are both at your disposal,” answered Ivor, in such a gay, happy voice that something told me he had already talked with Diana—­and that in spite of me she had not snubbed him.  “I am honoured—­I won’t say flattered, for I’m too much in earnest—­that you should place any confidence in me.”

I lay there behind the lounge and sneered at this speech of his.  Of course, I said to myself, he would be ready to do anything to please the Foreign Secretary, since all the big plums his ambition craved were in the gift of that man.

“Frankly, I’m in a difficulty, and it has occurred to me that you can help me out of it better than anyone else I know,” said the smooth, trained voice.  “It is a little diplomatic errand you will have to undertake for me tomorrow, if you want to do me a good turn.”

“I will undertake it with great pleasure, and carry it through to the best of my ability,” replied Ivor.

“I’m sure you can carry it through excellently,” said the Foreign Secretary, still fencing.  “It will be good practice, if you succeed, for—­any future duties in the career which may be opening to you.”

“He’s bribing him with that consulship,” I thought, beginning to be very curious indeed as to what I might be going to hear.  My heart wasn’t beating so thickly now.  I could think almost calmly again.

“I thank you for your trust in me,” said Ivor.