I was so sure that Bernheim would now be far enough away from the door that I reached across and flung it back.

The ante-room was empty, and, through its open doorway, we could see Bernheim and Moore coming slowly down the corridor and twenty feet away.

But she only laughed again.

“Which simply proves Colonel Bernheim’s wonderful agility,” she said.  “He must be a most valuable Aide.”

I closed the door.

“We are drifting from the point,” I said.  “You did me the honor to request an interview.”

“Not exactly, my dear Armand.  I sought admittance to my husband.”

“By ‘husband’ you mean——?” I asked.

She smiled tolerantly.  “By all means, keep up the play,” she said; “but we shall save time and energy by assuming that, whenever I speak of my husband, I mean you.”

“I take it, we may also assume that you did not seek such admission to me for the sole pleasure of looking at me?” I said.

“Quite right, Armand; though there was a time—­and not so long ago—­when we both were more than glad to look at each other.—­And, maybe, I have not changed.”  And she leaned forward and smiled with the frankness of a sweet-faced child.

I made a gesture of repugnance.

“For Heaven’s sake, madame, lay aside this simulated sentiment and be good enough to come to the point.”

“The point?—­the point?” she replied absently.  “True, I was forgetting—­the sight of you, dear, always stirs me so.  I came here very angry with you, and, now, I have almost forgiven you.”

I put my finger on the electric button, and Colonel Moore responded.

“Mrs. Spencer desires her carriage,” I said.

She gave him one of her sweetest smiles.

“It’s too bad, Colonel Moore, that I am always imposed upon you when your chief sends me from his august presence;” and she held out her hand to him.

Moore’s bow over it was positively blarneying in its deference.

“It is a great pleasure, I assure you,” he said.

She shook her head at him.

“Rather double entendre, Colonel.”

“Madame knows it was not so meant,” was the quick reply.

She gave him a glance of amused indifference; then arose.

“And Your Royal Highness does not wish to hear my particular errand?” she said.

“No more than before you—­entered,” I replied.

“Intruded, you mean.”

“Possibly, that would be more accurate,” I admitted.

She gave a sarcastic laugh.

“Your royalty seems to have been fatal to your courtesy.”

“At least, there is one particular instance in which it seems to have increased my forbearance.”

She gathered up her skirts, as though to go—­then turned.

“And that instance is myself?” she asked.

“Your intuition is marvellous,” I replied.

She sat down on the chair arm.