“I can see that you are suffering,” he remarked kindly.
“My eyes are hot, and inside I am on fire,” she continued. “I must speak to Leopold. Freda has asked me to stay and talk to her for an hour. My car waits. Arrange that he drives me home. Oh! believe me, dear friend, I am a very human woman, and there is nothing in the world to be gained by treating me as though I were of wood or stone. To-night I can see him without observation. If you refuse, I shall take other means. I will make no promises. I will not even promise that I will not call out before him in the streets that he is a liar, that his life is a lie. I will call him Leopold Von Ragastein—”
“Hush!” he begged her. “Stephanie, you are nervous. I have not yet answered your entreaty.”
“You consent?”
“I consent,” he promised. “After our interview, I shall bring the young man to Freda's room and present him. You will be there. He can offer you his escort.”
She suddenly stooped and kissed his hand. An immense relief was in her face.
“Now I will keep you no longer. Freda is waiting for me.”
The Ambassador strolled thoughtfully away into his own den at the back of the house, where Dominey was waiting for him.
“I am glad to see you,” the former said, holding out his hand. “For five minutes I desire to talk to your real self. After that, for the rest of your time in England, I will respect your new identity.”
Dominey bowed in silence. His host pointed to the sideboard.