Pamela shook her head.
"I cannot even allow that," she objected. "The advantage, if there was any, rested on the other side. But I just want you to remember what we were told in that first wonderful outpouring of fabricated news—that the naval supremacy of England was gone for ever, that the freedom of the seas was assured, that German merchant vessels were steaming home from all directions! No, Mr. Fischer! Between ourselves, I think that your cause needs a few fairy stories, and I look upon you as one of the greatest experts in the world when it comes to concocting them."
Fischer, who had risen to his feet half way through Pamela's speech, was obviously a little taken aback by her direct attack. Mrs. Hastings took no pains to conceal her annoyance.
"For a young girl of your age, Pamela," she said sternly, "I consider that you express your opinions far too freely. Your attitude, too, is unjustifiable."
"Ah, well, you see, I am a little prejudiced against Mr. Fischer," Pamela laughed, turning towards him. "He happened to defeat one of my pet schemes."
"But I am ready to further your dearest one," he reminded her, dropping his voice, and leading her a little on one side. "What about our alliance?"
"You scarcely need my aid," she observed, with a shrug of the shoulders.
He remonstrated vigorously. There was a revived hopefulness in his tone. Perhaps, after all, here was the secret of her displeasure with him.
"You wonder, perhaps, to see me with your uncle. I give you my word that it is a dinner of courtesy only. I give you my word that I have not opened my lips on political matters. I have been waiting for your answer."
"I have lost faith in you," she told him calmly. "I am not even certain that you possess the authority you spoke of."