Presently, there was a sharp knock at the corridor door. She glanced quickly at the clock—then, picked up a book and, sinking back in easy posture, assumed to read.
"Entréz," she called, without looking up.
The door opened instantly and a man entered. A long military cloak was over his plain evening dress; one fold was raised to hide his face. He dropped it as he closed the door.
Mrs. Spencer lowered her book—then arose with all the sinuous grace she knew so well how to assume.
"Welcome, Your Royal Highness," she said, and curtsied very low. "It was good of you to come."
The Duke of Lotzen tossed off his cloak—and, coming quickly over, took her hand and kissed it.
"It was more than good of you to let me come," he answered.
"I feared you might not get my note," she said. "I believe I am under constant surveillance."
He smiled. "Even the Secret Police would hesitate to tamper with my mail," he said.
"That was my hope," she answered.