Captain Griffiths abandoned himself to fate with a little shiver of complacency.  He welcomed Lessingham, who was presently announced, with very much less than his usual reserve, and the dinner was in every way a success.  Towards its close, Philippa became a little thoughtful.  She glanced more than once at Lessingham, who was sitting by her side, almost in admiration.  His conversation, gay at times, always polished, was interlarded continually with those little social reminiscences inevitable amongst men moving in a certain circle of English society.  Apparently Richard Felstead was not the only one of his college friends with whom he had kept in touch.  The last remnants of Captain Griffiths’ suspicions seemed to vanish with their second glass of port, although his manner became in no way more genial.

“Don’t you think you are almost a little too daring?” Philippa asked her favoured guest as he helped her afterwards to set out a bridge table.

“One adapts one’s methods to one’s adversary,” he murmured, with a smile, “Your friend Captain Griffiths had only the very conventional suspicions.  The mention of a few good English names, acquaintance with the ordinary English sports, is quite sufficient with a man like that.”

Helen and Griffiths were talking at the other end of the room.  Philippa raised her eyes to her companion’s.

“You become more of a mystery than ever,” she declared.  “You are making me even curious.  Tell me really why you have paid us this visit from the clouds?”

She was sorry almost as soon as she had asked the question.  For a moment the calm insouciance of his manner seemed to have departed.  His eyes glowed.

“In search of new things,” he answered.

“Guns?  Fortifications?”

“Neither.”

A spirit of mischief possessed her.  Lessingham’s manner was baffling and yet provocative.  For a moment the political possibilities of his presence faded away from her mind.  She had an intense desire to break through his reserve.

“Won’t you tell me—­why you came?”

“I could tell you more easily,” he answered in a low tone, “why it will be the most miserable day of my life when I leave.”

She laughed at him with perfect heartiness.

“How delightful to be flirted with again!” she sighed.  “And I thought all German men were so heavy, and paid elaborate, underdone compliments.  Still, your secret, sir, please?  That is what I want to know.”

“If you will have just a little patience!” he begged, leaning so close to her that their heads almost touched, “I promise that I will not leave this place before I tell it to you.”

Philippa’s eyes for the first time dropped before his.  She knew perfectly well what she ought to have done and she was singularly indisposed to do it.  It was a most piquant adventure, after all, and it almost helped her to forget the trouble which had been sitting so heavily in her heart.  Still avoiding his eyes, she called the others.