amused her to keep the conversation pitched in the most impersonal key.

"The secret police will scour Europe in pursuit of the assassin," she
observed.

"Yes," replied Armitage gravely.

He thought her brown traveling gown, with hat and gloves to match,
exceedingly becoming, and he liked the full, deep tones of her voice,
and the changing light of her eyes; and a certain dimple in her left
cheek--he had assured himself that it had no counterpart on the
right--made the fate of principalities and powers seem, at the moment, an
idle thing.

"The truth will be known before we sail, no doubt," said Shirley. "The
assassin may be here in Geneva by this time."

"That is quite likely," said John Armitage, with unbroken gravity. "In
fact, I rather expect him here, or I should be leaving to-day myself."

He bowed and made way for the vexed and chafing Claiborne, who gave his
hand to Armitage hastily and jumped into the carriage.

"Your imitation cut-glass drummer has nearly caused us to miss our train.
Thank the Lord, we've seen the last of that fellow."

Shirley said nothing, but gazed out of the window with a wondering look
in her eyes. And on the way to Liverpool she thought often of Armitage's
last words. "I rather expect him here, or I should be leaving to-day
myself," he had said.