“You mean to getting the letter?” she cried.
He nodded. “I had gone to bed, when something told me to take precautions; I carried the letter across the corridor and gave it to a friend to keep for me until morning. A short time after, the three men called.”
“Good Heavens!” she breathed. “What if they had gotten the letter.”
“Unless they knew the key-word, they wouldn’t have been any better off than are we—I mean than is the United States.”
“I’m France, am I?” she smiled.
“For only this once—and not for long, I trust,” he replied.
“Amen!” she exclaimed, “Also for ever more. I’ll be so relieved to be out of it and back to my normal ways that I gladly promise never to try it again. I’m committed to seeing this affair through and to aiding the French Embassy in whatever way I can, both because I must keep faith with Madame Durrand, and because my inexperience and credulity lost it the letter. That done, and I’m for—you, Mr. Harleston!” she laughed.
“And I’m for you always—no matter whom you’re for, nor what you may do or have done,” he replied.
For just an instant she gave him her eyes; then the colour flamed up and she turned hastily away.
“Sit down, sir,” she commanded—most adorably he thought; “I had almost forgotten that I have something to tell you.”