"In Berne."
"You stole my letters?"
"Yes, I had to."
"How did you do it?"
"The postman is in my pay."
"That," said I angrily, "is a most outrageous confession, Countess."
"But I had to know what your politics are," she explained gently. "Besides, if I had not stolen all your letters the Swiss authorities would have opened them and found out that you are pro-Ally in sentiment. And then you would not have been permitted to come here and live in this house. And all these people would not have come here either. And I should have had nobody to help me while keeping these people under surveillance."
"You count on me to help you?" I demanded, too astonished to remain angry.
"May I not?" she asked sweetly.
"So that's the reason," said I, "that you let me kiss you."