The room was not large, and every effort of a somewhat exotic taste had been put forth to create an atmosphere of intimacy. It was a room, as it were, planned and arranged for secret meetings. The carpet was thick; a while polar bear rug extended itself from the hearth, and beyond the hearth, running along the wall, was a divan covered in heavy silk of Chinese blue. A Chinese kakemono of brilliant colours—red, orange, azure, green, and gold—covered the wall behind the divan. The general air of the place was one that did not appeal to John in the least. He did not care a button about exotic boudoirs. Neither did he care for Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, who to-night was wearing a Chinese overgown as brilliant and sumptuous in hue as the kakemono that covered the wall.
She had been seated on the divan when John entered. She rose now and came towards him, with the pink light softening the cold splendour of her beauty. There was no doubt about her beauty—John was prepared to admit that even at this second meeting.
"You bad boy to be so late!" breathed Mrs. Beecher Monmouth, squeezing his fingers in hers. She drew him towards her.
The moment was a delicate one for Manton. What Treves's relations had been with this woman he could not guess. But it was his business to find out. It was indeed his business to find out many things about her. For months the Intelligence Department had held her in suspicion, but Dacent Smith's most brilliant assistants had failed to make headway in her case. She was slippery as an eel—quick-witted, cunning, daring and resourceful. In that moment, as she drew John towards her, she suspected a ruse. But there was no ruse. She looked up, her brilliant eyes searching him.
"Have you nothing for me?" she whispered.
There was only one thing to do, only one safe course to take, and John took it. He, as it were, plunged, and risked the consequences. He put his arms about her shapely shoulders and pressed a kiss upon the upturned lips.
"No, no! I didn't tell you you could kiss me!"
"You said something very like it!" laughed John.
"You are a bad, daring boy."
"Faint heart never won anything worth having," returned John.