“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.
“You talk—well, as you might be supposed to talk!” she exclaimed, breaking off with an effort. “What have official channels done to end this war? I am not here to help either side. I represent simply humanity. If you destroy or hand over to the Government that packet, you will do your country an evil turn.”
He shook his head.
“I am relieved to hear all that you say,” he told her, “and I am heartily glad to think that you do not look upon yourself as Overman’s associate. On the other hand, you must know that any movement towards peace, except through the authorised channels, is treason to the country.”
“If only you were not the Honourable Julian Orden, the son of an English peer!” she groaned. “If only you had not been to Eton and to Oxford! If only you were a man, a man of the people, who could understand!”
“Neither my birth nor my education,” he assured her, “have affected my present outlook upon life.”