What her purpose, in all this talk, he failed to see—unless she were seeking to establish an entente cordiale, or to gain time. The latter was the likelier—yet time for what? They both were aware that all this discussion was twaddle—like much that is done in diplomacy; that they were merely skirmishing to determine something as to each other’s position.
“I had hoped that for once you would forget business and trust me,” she said softly; “in memory of old times when we worked together, as well as when we were against each other. We played the game then for all that was in it, and neither of us asked nor gave quarter. But this isn’t business Guy,—” she had gradually bent closer until her hair brushed his cheek—“that is, it isn’t business that concerns your government. You may believe this implicitly, old enemy, absolutely implicitly.”
“With whom, then, has it to do?” he inquired placidly.
She sighed just a trifle—and moved closer.
“You will never tell, nor use the information?” she breathed.
“Not unless my government needs it?”
“Peste!” she exclaimed. “You and your government are—However, I’ll tell you.” Her voice dropped to a mere whisper. “It has to do with England, Germany, and France: at least, I so assume. It has to do with Germany or I wouldn’t be in it, as you know.”
“And what is the business?” he continued.
“I’m not informed—further than that it’s a secret agreement between England and Germany, which France suspects and would give much to block or to be advised of. As to what the agreement embodies, I am in the dark—though I fancy it has to do with some phase of the Balkan question.”
“Why would England and Germany conclude an agreement as to the Balkan question—or any question, indeed—in Washington?” Harleston asked.