"If you would only lay it there,--Philippe!"
His eyes boldly sought for flaws in her perfect face, and found none. And yet its very perfection was in itself a flaw, for he knew something of her history. Passion had made no mark upon her, or the suffering she must have caused in others. Whatever the world had done to her soul, it had passed her beauty by as though that in itself were a matter of no importance.
But Rowland did not kiss her, though he had a notion that this was what was required to seal their compact. He only laughed a little.
"You shall have it, Zoya Rochal. I give you my word on it, if you will help me to catch Gregory Khodkine." And then as he released her hand, "Tell me something of this Central Committee of Bavaria."
She watched him as he lighted his cigarette and marveled a little at the coolness of his renunciation of an opportunity.
"Perhaps you didn't know that it is from the Central Committee of Munich that I come to Nemi. Perhaps also you may think it strange that I, a loyal Russian, should stand high in such councils. But politics make strange affiliations. I have served the cause in many countries and in Germany I have secretly stood with advanced Socialism. As you have seen, I possess papers which permit me to come and go as I please and I am not without influence even in Berlin."
"Ah, that is strange. A secret agent----?"
"What you choose. In the past I've done Prussia some service in Constantinople, Buda-Pesth and Vienna. But since the war began---" she shrugged. "Can you not imagine? After all, I am a Russian."
"I see. And this Central Committee at Munich,--who is its leader?"
"George Senf, a giant among pigmies. You shall see----"