"Yes," she replied, more calmly now to Kennedy's repetition of the
Baron's name, "you see, I belong to a secret group." She appeared
to hesitate, then suddenly added, "I am an anarchist."

She watched the effect of her confession and, finding the look on
Kennedy's face encouraging rather than shocked, went on
breathlessly: "We are fighting war with war--this iron-bound
organization of men and women. We have pledged ourselves to
exterminate all kings, emperors and rulers, ministers of war,
generals--but first of all the financiers who lend money that
makes war possible."

She paused, her eyes gleaming momentarily with something like the
militant enthusiasm that must have enlisted her in the paradoxical
war against war.

"We are at least going to make another war impossible!" she
exclaimed, for the moment evidently forgetting herself.

"And your plan?" prompted Kennedy, in the most matter-of-fact
manner, as though he were discussing an ordinary campaign for
social betterment. "How were you to--reach the Baron?"

"We had a drawing," she answered with amazing calmness, as if the
mere telling relieved her pent-up feelings. "Another woman and I
were chosen. We knew the Baron's weakness for a pretty face. We
planned to become acquainted with him--lure him on."

Her voice trailed off, as if, the first burst of confidence over,
she felt something that would lock her secret tighter in her