Hugh Renwick.
When the servant returned, some moments later, Renwick was shown into the drawing room, with the word that the Countess Strahni would see him. She appeared almost immediately, her face a little pallid, her manner restrained, her accents frigidly polite. But the dark eyes were luminous, the brows were drawn inward, and her voice trembled slightly as she spoke his name.
"Herr Renwick, I can hardly believe that you would impose so difficult a situation were it not that something of importance has occurred——"
"It has, Countess Strahni," he said gravely, then paused. "I beg that you will believe me."
She sank into a chair and motioned for him to be seated, but he remained standing, his eyes studying the fine line of her neck and shoulder as she bent forward, her gaze upon the rug. There was something almost childish in her imperiousness. He wanted to take her in his arms and hold her there as he would have done a spoiled child, and trust the issue to his strength and her weakness, but the quick tap of her slippered toe upon the carpet warned him that his mission was delicate.
"Proceed, if you please," she said after a moment.
"You may not know, but a few days after my return from Konopisht, my connection with the British Embassy ceased——"
"I have heard," she broke in quickly, in a suppressed tone; "I am sorry."
"But my interests in the political aspect of affairs were so great that I could not leave Vienna."
"At least I am not to blame for the actions of the ministry."