The Secretary was standing by the window; with him were Mrs. Clephane and Carpenter.
“How do you do, Mrs. Spencer!” he said, without waiting for the formal presentation.
She dropped him—Continental fashion—a bit of curtsy and offered him her slender fingers; which, as well as the rest of her hand, he took and held. Its shapeliness together with her beauty of face and figure were instantly swept up by his appraising glance.
“Your Excellency is very gracious!” she murmured bestowing on him a look that fairly dizzied him.
Small wonder, he thought, that she was reputed the most fascinating and loveliest secret agent in Europe—and the most dangerous to the other party involved; it would be a rare man, indeed, who could withstand such charms, to say nothing of the alluring and appealing ways that must go with them. If he only might try them—just to test his own fine power of resistance and adamantine will! He shot a quick glance of suppressed irritation at Harleston—and Madeline Spencer saw it and smiled, turning the smile toward Harleston.
“I know what you are about to do,” the smile said. “Now do it if you can. You were afraid to trust me alone with this man; you knew how easy he would be for me. Proceed with your game, Mr. Harleston—and play it out.”
Meanwhile the Secretary, still holding her hand, was saying:
“Let me present the Fifth Assistant Secretary of State, Mr. Carpenter;—” and Carpenter received a smile only a little less dazzling than that bestowed on his chief—“I believe you have met Mrs. Clephane,” he ended, and only then did he release her hand.
“Yes, I have met Mrs. Clephane,” she replied indifferently, and without so much as a glance her way.
It was to be a battle, so why delay it?