'I go to speak with a friend,' he said—'a matter of business. For your excellent luncheon I thank you very much, and for the privilege of having met Miss de Freyne,' he added with a little bow, 'I thank you even more. Till Friday, then.'
He shuffled across the room, an ill-dressed, undignified figure, yet with a confidence which surpassed conceit. They saw him greet a compatriot and seat himself at the latter's table.
'That man,' Lavendale said, as he toyed with his coffee spoon, 'has at the back of his head some new scheme. It may not be directed against your people. I have an idea that it is more likely to be directed against mine.'
'But he is an American himself,' she protested.
'He is a German-American,' Lavendale replied, 'which means that he is very much a German and very little an American.'
'Whatever his new scheme may be,' she sighed, 'I do not think that he is disposed to talk about it.'
'Whatever it may be,' Lavendale replied, 'it is my business to find it out. One thing is absolutely certain. No American would receive the attentions of the Kaiser—in war time, too—and come back here without a word to say about it, unless there was something in the background, something he meant to keep secret.'
They strolled out into the entrance hall and Lavendale departed in search of his hat. A waiter came hurriedly out to Suzanne's side.
'For madame,' he whispered, slipping a little note into her hand.
Her fingers closed upon it quickly. She glanced around. Lavendale was still talking to some acquaintances. She opened it and read the few hastily pencilled lines:—