"Any one been disagreeable?" he asked, after a moment's pause.
"Get down to your office at once," Fenn directed briefly. "Have
Miss Abbeway followed. I want reports of her movements every
hour. I shall be here all night."
Bright grinned unpleasantly.
"Another Samson, eh?"
"Go to Hell, and do as you're told!" was the fierce reply. "Put
your best men on the job. I must know, for all our sakes, the
name of the neutral whom Miss Abbeway sees to-night and with whom
she is exchanging confidences."
Bright left the room with a shrug of the shoulders. Nicholas Fenn
turned up the electric light, pulled out a bank book from the
drawer of his desk, and, throwing it on to the fire, watched it
until it was consumed.
CHAPTER XVIII
The Baron Hellman, comfortably seated at the brilliantly decorated
round dining table, between Catherine, on one side, and a lady to
whom he had not been introduced, contemplated the menu through his
immovable eyeglass with satisfaction, unfolded his napkin, and
continued the conversation with his hostess, a few places away,
which the announcement of dinner had interrupted.
"You are quite right, Princess," he admitted.
"The position of neutrals, especially in the diplomatic world,
becomes, in the case of a war like this, most difficult and
sometimes embarrassing. To preserve a correct attitude is often a
severe strain upon one's self-restraint."
The Princess nodded sympathetically.
"A very charming young man, the Baron," she confided to the
General who had taken her in to dinner.
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