She drank thirstily and seemed in a few
moments to have overcome her fatigue. She turned to her companion
with an air of determination.
"I must speak to you about that packet, Mr. Orden," she insisted.
"Again?"
"I cannot help it. You forget that with me it is a matter of life
or death. You must realise that you were only entrusted with it.
You are a man of honour. Give it to me."
"I cannot."
"What are you thinking of doing with it, then?"
"I shall take it to London with me to-morrow," he replied, "and
hand it over to a friend of mine at the Foreign Office."
"Would nothing that I could do or say," she asked passionately,
"influence your decision?"
"Everything that you do or say interests and affects me," he
answered simply, "but so far as regards this matter, my duty is
clear. You have nothing to fear from my account of how it came
into my possession. It would be impossible for me to denounce you
for what I fear you are. On the other hand, I cannot allow you
the fruits of your enterprise."
"You consider me, I suppose," she observed after a moment's pause,
"an enemy spy?"
"You have proved it," he reminded her.
"Of Overman--my confederate," she admitted, "that was true. Of
me it is not. I am an honest intermediary between the honest
people of Germany and England."
"There can be no communication between the two countries during
wartime, except through official channels," he declared.
Her eyes flashed. She seemed in the throes of one of those little
bursts of tempestuous passion which sometimes assailed her.
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