The night was dark but fine, and the crossing smooth. Louise,
wrapped in furs, abandoned her private cabin directly they had left
the harbor, and had a chair placed on the upper deck. Von Behrling
found her there, but not before they were nearly half-way across.
She beckoned him to her side. Her eyes glowed at him through the
darkness.

"You are not looking after me, my friend," she declared. "By myself
I had to find this place."

Von Behrling was ruffled. He was also humbly apologetic.

"It is those idiots who are with me," he said. "All the time they
worry."

She laughed and drew him down so that she could whisper in his ear.

"I know what it is," she said. "You have secrets which you are
taking to London, and they are afraid of me because I am a Servian.
Tell me, is it not so? Perhaps, even, they think that I am a spy."

Von Behrling hesitated. She drew him closer towards her.

"Sit down on the deck," she continued, "and lean against the rail.
You are too big to talk to up there. So! Now you can come
underneath my rug. Tell me, are they afraid of me, your friends?"

"Is it without reason?" he asked. "Would not any one be afraid of
you - if, indeed, they believed that you wished to know our secrets?
I wonder if there is a man alive whom you could not turn round your