"I see. But if she sends him away, and comes to my hotel--"

"She'll probably make some excuse about being obliged to go to the
theatre early, and thus get rid of him. She's quite clever enough to
manage that. Then, as your own name won't appear on any hotel list in
the papers next day, the most jealous heart need have no cause for
suspicion. At the same time, if certain persons whom Mademoiselle--and
we, too--have to fear, do find out that she has visited Ivor Dundas, who
has assumed a false name for the pleasure of a private interview with
her, interests of even deeper importance than the most desperate love
affair may still, we'll hope, be guarded by the pretext of your old
friendship. Now, you understand thoroughly?"

"I think so," replied Ivor, very grave and troubled, I knew by the
change in his manner, out of which all the gaiety had been slowly
drained. "I will do my very best."

"If you are sacrificing any important engagements of your own for the
next two days, you won't suffer for it in the end," remarked the Foreign
Secretary meaningly.

No doubt Ivor saw the consulship at Algiers dancing before his eyes,
bound up with an engagement to Di, just as a slice of rich plum cake and
white bride cake are tied together with bows of satin ribbons sometimes,
in America. I didn't want him to have the consulship, because getting
that would perhaps mean getting Di, too.

"Thank you," said Ivor.

"And what hotel shall you choose in Paris?" asked the Foreign Secretary.