The Count glanced quickly towards Norgate.  There was some relief in his face—­a great deal of distrust, however.

“Baroness,” he said, “my advice to you, for your own good entirely, is, with all respect to your husband, that you shorten your honeymoon and pay your respects to the Emperor.  I think that you owe it to him.  I think that you owe it to your country.”

Anna for a moment was grave again.

“Just at present,” she pronounced, “I realise one debt only, and that is to my husband.  I will come to the Embassy to-morrow and discuss these matters with you, Count, but whether my husband accompanies me or not, I have now no secrets from him.”

“The position, then,” the Count declared, “is intolerable.  May I ask whether you altogether realise, Baroness; what this means?  The Emperor is your guardian.  All your estates are subject to his jurisdiction.  It is his command that you return to Vienna.”

Anna laughed again.  She passed her fingers through Norgate’s arm.

“You see,” she explained, as they stood for a moment at the corner of the street, “I have a new emperor now, and he will not let me go.”

* * * * *

Selingman frowned a little as he recognised his visitor.  Nevertheless, he rose respectfully to his feet and himself placed a chair by the side of his desk.

“My dear Count!” he exclaimed.  “I am very glad to see you, but this is an unusual visit.  I would have met you somewhere, or come to the Embassy.  Have we not agreed that it was well for Herr Selingman, the crockery manufacturer—­”

“That is all very well, Selingman,” the Count interrupted, “but this morning I have had a shock.  It was necessary for me to talk with you at once.  In Bond Street I met the Baroness von Haase.  For twenty-four hours London has been ransacked in vain for her.  This you may not know, but I will now tell you.  She has been our trusted agent, the trusted agent of the Emperor, in many recent instances.  She has carried secrets in her brain, messages to different countries.  There is little that she does not know.  The last twenty-four hours, as I say, I have sought for her.  The Emperor requires her presence in Vienna.  I meet her in Bond Street this morning and she introduces to me her husband, an English husband, Mr. Francis Norgate!”

He drew back a little, with outstretched hands.  Selingman’s face, however, remained expressionless.

“Married already!” he commented.  “Well, that is rather a surprise.”

“A surprise?  To be frank, it terrifies me!” the Count cried.  “Heaven knows what that woman could tell an Englishman, if she chose!  And her manner—­I did not like it.  The only reassuring thing about it was that she told me that her husband was one of your men.”

“Quite true,” Selingman assented.  “He is.  It is only recently that he came to us, but I do not mind telling you that during the last few weeks no one has done such good work.  He is the very man we needed.”