Harietta Boleski was growing dissatisfied with her life. England was of no amusement to her, and yet Hans insisted upon her staying on. She wanted to go to Paris. The war altogether was a supreme bore and upset her plans!

She had been so successful in her obvious stupid way that Hans had been enabled to transmit the most useful information to his country, which had assisted to foil more than one Allied plan. Harietta saw numbers of old gentlemen who pulled strings in that time, and although they wearied her, she found them easier to extract news from than the younger men. Her method was so irresistible: a direct appeal to the senses, and it hardly ever failed. If only Hans would consent to her returning to Paris, with the help of Ferdinand Ardayre, who was now her slave, she promised wonderful things.

Hans, as a Swedish philanthropic gentleman, had been over to give her instructions once or twice, and at last had agreed to her crossing the Channel.

She told this good news to Ferdinand one afternoon just before Christmas, when he came in to see her in London.

"I'm going to Paris, Ferdie, and you must come too. There's no use in your pretending that England matters to you, and you are of such use to us with your branch business in Holland like that. If I'd thought in the beginning that there was a chance to knock out Germany, I would have been right on this side, because there's no two ways about it, England's the place to have a good time in, but I've information which makes it certain that we shall take Calais in the Spring, and so I guess it's safer to cling to Kaiser Bill—and get it all done soon, then we can enjoy ourselves again. I do pine for a tango! My! I'm just through with this dull time!"

Ferdinand was a rest to her, almost as good as Hans. She had not to be over-refined—she knew that he was on the same level as herself. He amused her too in several ways.

He looked sulky now. It did not suit his plans to go to Paris yet. He was trying to collect information for a game of his own. But where Harietta went he must go, he was besotted about her, and knew that he could not trust her a yard.

He protested a little that they were very well where they were, but as she never allowed any one's wishes to interfere with her plans she only smiled.

"I'm going on Saturday. We have secured a suite at the Universal this time, now that the Rhin is shut up, and it is such a large hotel, you can quite well stay there; Stanislass won't notice you among the crowd."

Ferdinand agreed unwillingly—and just then Verisschenzko came in. He had not seen Madame Boleski since the night at the Carlton, having taken care not to let her know of his further visits to England since.

He looked at Ferdinand Ardayre as though he had been some bit of furniture, and he took up Fou-Chow who was cowering beneath a chair. He did not speak a word.

Harietta talked for every one for a little while, and then she began to feel nervous.

Verisschenzko smiled lazily—he was trying an experiment. The interview could not go on like this; Ferdinand Ardayre would certainly have to go.

Now that Verisschenzko had come, Harietta ardently wished that he would.

The most venomous hate was arising in Ferdinand's resentful soul. He felt that here was a rival to be dreaded indeed. He saw that Harietta was nervous; he had never seen her so before. He shut his teeth and determined to stay on.

Verisschenzko continued his disconcerting silence. Harietta felt that she should presently scream! She took Fou-Chow from StÉpan and pinched him cruelly in her exasperation. He gave a feeble squeak and she pushed him roughly down. Animals to her were a nuisance. She disliked them if she had any feeling at all. But Fou-Chow was an adjunct to her toilet sometimes, and was a coveted possession, envied by her many female friends. His tiny, cringing body irritated her though extremely when she was not using him for effect, and he was often kicked and cuffed out of her way.

He showed evident fear of her and ran from her always, so that when she wanted to make a picture with him, she was obliged to carry him in her arms.

Verisschenzko raised one bushy eyebrow, and a sardonic smile came into his eyes.

Madame Boleski saw that she had made a mistake in showing her temper to the dog; it would have given her pleasure then to wring its neck!

The two men sat on. She began to grow so uncomfortable that she could endure it no more.

"You are coming back to dinner, Mr. Ardayre," she remarked at length, "and I want you to get me gardenias to wear, if you will be so kind, and I am afraid you will have to hurry as the shops close soon."

Ferdinand Ardayre rose, rage showing in his mean face, but as he had no choice he said good-bye. Harietta accompanied him to the door, pressing his hand stealthily, then she returned to the Russian with flaming eyes. He had not uttered a word.

"How dare you make me so nervous, sitting there like a log! I won't stand for such treatment—you Bear!"

"Then sit down. Why do you have that Turk with you at all?"

"He is not a Turk; he's an Englishman and a friend of mine. Why, he is the brother of your precious John Ardayre—and they have behaved shamefully to him, poor dear boy."

She was still enraged.

"He is not even a pure Turk—some of them are gentlemen. He is just the scum of the earth, and no blood relation to John Ardayre."

"He will let them know whether he is or not some day! I hear that your bit of bread and butter is going to have a child, and as Ferdie says it can't be John's, I suppose it is yours!"

Verisschenzko's face looked dangerous.

"You would do well to guard your words, Harietta. I do not permit you to make such remarks to me—and it would be more prudent if you warned your friend that he had better not make such assertions either—do you understand?"

Harietta felt some twinge of fear at the strange tone in the Russian's voice, but she was too out of temper to be cowed now.

"Puh!" and she tossed her head. "If the child is a boy Ferdie will have something to say—and as for Amaryllis—I hate her! I'd like to kill her with my own hands."

Verisschenzko rose and stood before her—and there was a look in his eyes which made her suddenly grow cold.

"Listen," he said icily. "I have warned you once and you know me well enough to decide whether I ever speak lightly. I warn you again to be careful of your words and your deeds. I shall warn you no more—if you transgress a third time—then I will strike."

Harietta grew pale to her painted lips.

How would he strike? Not with a stick as Hans would have done, but in some much more deadly way. She changed her manner instantly and began to laugh.

"Darling Brute!"

Verisschenzko knew that he had alarmed her sufficiently, so he sat down in his chair again and lit a cigarette calmly—then he sniffed the air.

"Your mongrel friend uses the same perfume as Stanislass' mistress!"

"Stanislass' mistress?" she had forgotten for the moment.

"Yes—don't you remember we burnt his scented handkerchief the last time we met, because we did not like her taste in perfumes?"

Harietta's ill humour rose again; she was annoyed that she had forgotten this incident. Her instinct of self-preservation usually preserved her from committing any such mistakes. She felt that it was now advisable to become cajoling; also there was something in the face of Verisschenzko and his fierceness which aroused renewed passion in her—it was absurd to waste time in quarrelling with him when in an hour Stanislass might be coming in, so she went over behind his chair and smoothed back his thick dark hair.

"You know that I adore you, darling Brute!"

"Of course—" he did not even turn his head towards her. "Have you had your heart's desire here in England?"

"Before this stupid war came—yes—now I'm through with it. I'm for
Paris again."

"I suppose I must have been mistaken, but I thought I caught sight of your handsome German friend in the hall just now?"

"German friend—who?"

"Your danseur at the Ardayre ball. I have forgotten his name."

"And so have I."

At that instant Marie appeared at the door and Fou-Chow came from under the chair where he was sheltering and pattered towards her with a glad tiny whine. The maid's eyes rounded with dislike as she looked at her mistress; she realised that the little creature had been roughly treated again. She picked him up and could hardly control her voice into a tone of respectfulness as she spoke:

"Monsieur Insborg demands if he can see Madame in half an hour. He telephoned to Madame but received no reply."

For a second Harietta's eyes betrayed her; they narrowed with alarm, and then she said suavely: "I suppose the receiver was off. No, say I am dining early for the theatre—but to-morrow at five."

The maid inclined her head and left the room silently, carrying Fou-Chow, but as she did so her eyes met Verisschenzko's and their expression suggested to him several things:

"Marie loves the dog—so she hates Harietta. Good—we shall see."

Thus his thoughts ran, but aloud he asked what Harietta meant to do with her life in Paris, and who had been her lovers here?

"You do say such frightful things to me, StÉpan," and she tossed her head. "You think that because I took you, I take others! Pah!—and if I do—these Englishmen are peaches, just like little school boys—they'd not harm a fly. But I only love you, Darling Brute—even though we have had a row."

"I know that, of course. I am not jealous, only you have not given me any proofs lately, so I am going to retire from the field. I came to say good-bye."

He looked adorably attractive, Harietta thought—he made her blood run. Ferdinand Ardayre was but an instructed weakling, when one had come through his intricacies there was nothing in him. As a lover he was not worth the Russian's little finger, and the more Verisschenzko eluded her, the higher her passion for him grew; and here he was after months of absence and suggesting that he would leave her for ever! This was not to be borne!

The enraging part was that she would not dare to try to keep him with Hans again upon the scene. She hated Hans once more as she had hated him at the Ardayre ball!

Verisschenzko did not attempt to caress her; he sat perfectly still, nor did he speak.

Harietta could not think how to cope with this new mood; her weariness with the gloom of England and the absence of amusement seemed to render StÉpan more than ever desirable. He represented the wild, the strong, the primitive, the only thing she felt that she desired at that moment—and if she let him go to-day he was capable of never coming back to her again. It was worth using any means to keep him on. She knew that she could obtain some show of love from him if she bribed him with bits of news. It would serve Hans right too for daring to turn up so inconveniently!

So she came from behind his chair and sat down on Verisschenzko's knee and commenced to whisper in his ear.

"Now I am beginning to think that you love me again," he announced presently,—"and of course I must always pay for love!"

* * * * *

They were seated by the fire in two armchairs when Stanislass came in from the Club before dinner at eight. Harietta had not even remembered that she must dress, so intoxicated with re-awakened passion for Verisschenzko had she become. A man for her must be in the room; her affection could not keep alight in absence. She had revelled in the joy of finding again a complete physical master. She loved him as a tigress may love her tamer, the man with the whip; and the knowledge that she was deceiving Hans and her husband and Ferdinand added a fillip to her satisfaction. But how was she going to be sure to see StÉpan again—that was the question which still agitated her. Verisschenzko wished to further examine Ferdinand Ardayre, and so decided to make every one uncomfortable once more by staying on. Stanislass, very nervous with him now, talked fast and foolishly. Harietta fidgeted, and in a moment or two Ferdinand Ardayre was announced.

He reddened with annoyance to see the Russian had not gone; the flowers which he had brought were in a parcel in his hand.

Harietta took them disdainfully without a word of thanks. What a nuisance the creature was after all!—and Stanislass was—and everything and anything was which kept her from being alone with Verisschenzko!

"When are you coming to see me again, StÉpan?" she asked, determined not to let him part without some definite future meeting settled.

"I will come back and take coffee with you to-night," he answered unexpectedly.

Harietta was enchanted, she had not hoped for this.

"No one bothers so much about dressing now, stay and dine as you are."

"Yes, do," chimed in Stanislass timidly in Russian, "we should be so charmed."

"Very well—I will dine—but I must change. I shall not be long though. Begin dinner without me, I will join you before the fish." And with no further waste of words he left them.

Harietta pushed Stanislass gently from the room with an injunction to be quick—and then she returned and held out her arms to Ferdinand Ardayre.

"Now you must not be jealous, Ferdie pet, about Verisschenzko," and she patted him. "It is business—I must talk to him to-night; he has an idea that you and I are not favourable to the Allies," and she laughed delightedly, "and I must get him off this notion!"

Ferdinand Ardayre looked sullen; he was burning with jealousy.

"Will you make it up to me afterwards?"

"But, of course, in the usual way!" and with one of her wonderful kisses
Harietta went laughing from the room.

Left alone, the young man gave himself a morphine piqÛre, and then sat down and held his head in his hands.

He had heard, as he had told Harietta earlier in the afternoon, that his brother's wife was going to have a child, and he could find no way of proving legally that it could not be John's, so his venom had grown with his impotence.

His mother had said to him once:

"The accursed English will always beat us, my son. Thy real father would have put poison in their coffee. We can only hope for revenge some day. I fear we shall never gain our desires. The old fool whom thou callest father must be sucked dry of everything while he lives, because no quarter will be given us once the breath is out of his body."

Was this true? Must the English always beat him? He remembered his hatred of Denzil while at Eton, and the dog's life he had often led there. Well, he would hit back with an adder's sting when the chance came to him. He would like to see both Ardayres ruined and England herself in the dust, numbed and conquered. All his English life and education had never made him anything but an alien in thought and appearance.

It was his powerlessness which enraged him, but surely the day must come when he could make some of them suffer.

Harietta had not appeared in the hall when Verisschenzko returned dressed, and she even kept all three men waiting for about ten minutes, and then swept in resplendent in yellow brocade and the gardenias, when the clock had struck nine and most of the other diners were having their coffee.

The atmosphere of restraint and depression was a constant source of resentment to her. It was all very well to be dignified and refined for some definite end, like securing an unquestioned position, but it was a weariness of the flesh to have to keep up this rÔle month after month with no excitement or reward, and every now and then she felt that she must break out even in small ways by wearing too gorgeous and unsuitable raiment. She wished that Germany would be quick about winning, then things could settle down and she could begin her social career again.

"It don't amount to a row of pins to the people who want to enjoy themselves, as I do, if their country is beaten or not; it'll all be the same six months after peace is declared, so I'm all for knocking whichever seems feeblest out quickly," she had said to Ferdinand, "and Paris will always be top of the world for clothes and things that one wants, so what do old politics matter?"

She derived some pleasure out of the sensation she created when she went into a restaurant, and she really looked extraordinarily handsome.

The dinner amused her, too; it was entertaining to make Ferdinand jealous. The emotions of Stanislass had ceased to count to her in any way whatsoever.

Verisschenzko had discovered what he required in regard to Ferdinand Ardayre before they went into the hall for coffee—there was nothing further to be gained by having another tÊte-À-tÊte with Harietta, so he sat down by Stanislass and suggested that the other two should go on to the Coliseum without them, and Harietta was obliged to depart reluctantly with Ferdinand, having arranged that StÉpan should let her know, directly he arrived in Paris, whither he was going in a day or two also.

When she had left them Stanislass Boleski turned melancholy eyes to his old friend, but remained silent.

"Has it been worth it?" Verisschenzko asked, with certain feeling—they had relapsed into Russian.

Stanislass sighed deeply.

"No—far from it—I am broken and finished, StÉpan, she has devoured my soul—"

"Why don't you kill her! I should."

The Pole clenched one of his transparent looking hands:

"I cannot—I desire her so—she is an obsession. I cannot work—she leaves me neither time nor brain. But I want her always, she is a burning torment, and a blast, and a sin. I see visions of the chance that I have missed, and then all is obliterated by her voluptuous kisses. I die each day with jealousy and shame. She withholds herself, and I would pay with the blood from my veins to possess her again!"

"You have no longer any delusions about her—you see her as a curse and a vampire?"

Stanislass reddened.

"I see everything, but I know only desire. StÉpan, she has dragged me through every degradation. I am a witness of her unfaithfulness. She gives herself to this Turk with hardly a pretence of concealment—I know it—I burn with rage, and I can do nothing. She returns to my arms and I forget everything. I am a most unhappy man and only death can release me, and yet I wish to live because I love her. Each day is fierce longing for her—each night away from her hell—" Tears sprang to his hopeless black eyes and his voice broke with emotion.

Verisschenzko looked at him and a rough pity tempered his contempt.

Here was a case where an indulgence having become master was exacting a hideous toll. But the net was drawing closer and when all the strands were in his hands he would act without mercy.