Continent this coming conference is to be held at."

"Right, woman!" Mr. Fentolin answered sharply. "Right! It is the
special envoy. He has his mandate with him. I have them both--the
man and his mandate. Can you guess what I am going to do with them?"

"It is not difficult," she replied. "Your methods are scarcely
original. His mandate to the flames, and his body to the sea!"

She raised her eyes as she spoke and looked over Mr. Fentolin's
shoulder, across the marshland to the grey stretch of ocean. Her
eyes became fixed. It was not possible to say that they held any
expression, and yet one felt that she saw beneath the grey waves,
even to the rocks and caverns below.

"It does not terrify you, then," he asked curiously, "to think that
a man under this roof is about to die?"

"Why should it?" she retorted. "Death does not frighten me--my
own or anybody else's. Does it frighten you?"

His face was suddenly livid, his eyes full of fierce anger. His
lips twitched. He struck the table before him.

"Beast of a woman!" he shouted. "You ghoul! How dare you! How
dare you--"

He stopped short. He passed his hand across his forehead. All the
time the woman remained unmoved.