Seeing that Desmond remained silent, she hastened to add:
“Believe me, what I ask you to do is not in opposition to your duty. My friend, for all my surroundings, I am not what I seem. Fate has drawn me into the system of which you form part; but, believe me, I know nothing of the service to which you and Mortimer and the rest belong!”
She spoke with painful earnestness and in a tone so mournful that Desmond felt himself profoundly moved. “If only she is not acting!” he thought, and sought to shake himself free from the spell which this girl seemed able to cast about him at will.
“Promise me that you will respect my confidence and help me!” she said and held out her hand.
Desmond’s big hand closed about hers and he felt an odd thrill of sympathy with her as their hands met.
“I promise!” he said and murmured to himself something very like a prayer that he might not be called upon to redeem his word.
She let her eyes rest for a moment on his.
“Be careful!” she urged warningly, while the ghost of a smile flitted across her face. “Very soon I may call upon you to make good your words!”
“I promise!” he repeated—and his eyes never left hers.
“Then,” she cried passionately, “find out who has stolen for the Crown Prince the Star of Poland at the price of the life of a harmless old man!”