“What do you imagine might be my occupation, then?” she asked.

“I have heard it suggested,” he said slowly, “that you have been a useful intermediary in carrying messages of the utmost importance between the Kaiser and the Emperor of Austria.”

“Your Intelligence Department is not so bad,” she remarked.  “It is true.  Why not?  At the German Court I count for little, perhaps.  In Austria my father was the Emperor’s only personal friend.  My mother was scarcely popular there—­she was too completely English—­but since my father died the Emperor will scarcely let me stay a week away.  Yes, your information is perhaps true.  I will supplement it, if you like.  Since our little affair in the Cafe de Berlin, the Kaiser, who went out of his way to insist upon your removal from Berlin, has notified the Emperor that he would prefer to receive his most private dispatches either through the regular diplomatic channels or by some other messenger.”

Norgate’s emphatic expletive was only half-stifled as she continued.

“For myself,” she said with a shrug, “I am not sorry.  I found it very interesting, but of late those feelings of which I have told you have taken hold of me.  I have felt as though a terrible shadow were brooding over the world.”

“Let me ask you once more,” he begged.  “Why are you in London?”

“I received a wire from the Emperor,” she explained, “instructing me to return at once to Vienna.  If I go there, I know very well that I shall not be allowed to leave the city.  I have been trusted implicitly, and they will keep me practically a prisoner.  They will think that I may feel a resentment against the Kaiser, and they will be afraid.  Therefore, I came here.  I have every excuse for coming.  It is according to my original plans.  You will find that by to-morrow morning I shall have a second message from Vienna.  All the same, I am not sure that I shall go.”

There was a ring at the bell.  Norgate started, and Anna looked at the clock.

“Who is that?” she asked.  “Do you see the time?”

Norgate moved to the door and threw it open.  A waiter stood there.

“What do you want?” demanded Norgate.

The man pointed to the indicator.

“The bell rang, sir,” he replied.  “Is there anything I can get for you?”

“I rang no bell,” Norgate asserted.  “Your indicator must be out of order.”

Norgate would have closed the door, but Anna intervened.

“Tell the waiter I wish to speak to him,” she begged.

The man advanced at once into the room and glanced interrogatively at Anna.  She addressed him suddenly in Austrian, and he replied without hesitation.  She nodded.  Then she turned to Norgate and laughed softly.

“You see how perfect the system is,” she said.  “I was followed here, passed on to your floor-waiter.  You are a spy, are you not?” she added, turning to the man.  “But of course you are!”