occupy a good deal of my attention."

She looked at him curiously.

"You suffer from nerves, don't you?" she enquired.

"Hideously," he assented.

"And yet," she continued, still watching him in a puzzled fashion,
"you made that extraordinary voyage through the air to catch this
steamer. That doesn't seem to me to be at all the sort of thing a
nervous person would do."

"It was for a bet," he explained confidentially. "The only occasion
upon which I forget my nerves is when there is a bet to be lost or
won. At the time," he went on, "my deportment was, I think, all that
could have been desired. The sensations of which I was undoubtedly
conscious I contrived to adequately conceal. The after-shock, however,
has, I must admit, been considerable."

"Was it really so terribly important," she enquired, "that you
should be in London next week?"

"The War Office made a special point of it," he assured her. "Got to
join up, you know, directly I arrive."

"Do you think," she enquired after a brief pause, "that you will enjoy
soldiering better than pseudo-diplomacy? I don't exactly know how to
refer to your work. I only remember that when we were introduced I was
told that you had something to do with the Secret Service."