”‘Why, mademoiselle!’ I cried, noticing that she was without her hat, ‘fancy you—in Bucharest! When did you arrive?’
”‘An hour ago,’ she answered, breathlessly. ‘I—I want your assistance, M’sieur Martin. I am in danger—grave danger!’
”‘Danger! Of what?’
”‘I hardly know—except that the police may follow me and demand my arrest. This place—like Sofia—swarms with spies.’
”‘I know,’ I said, much interested, but surprised that she should have thus followed me. ‘But why do you fear?’
”‘I surely need not explain to you facts—facts that are painful!’ she said, looking straight at me half-reproachfully with those wonderful blue eyes that held me so fascinated. ‘I merely tell you that I am in danger, and ask you to render me assistance.’
”‘How? In what manner can I assist you?’
”‘In one way alone,’ was her quick, breathless answer. ‘Ah! if you would only do it—if you would only save my life!’ And with her white ungloved hands clenched in desperation, she stood motionless as a statue.
”‘Save your life!’ I echoed. ‘I—I really don’t understand you, mademoiselle.’
”‘Before they arrest me I will commit suicide. I have the means here!’ and she touched the bodice of her dress. ‘Ah, m’sieur, you do not know in what a position I find myself. I prefer death to save my honour, and I appeal to you, an English gentleman to help me!’