Mr. Sabin, contrary to his usual custom, engaged a private room at the Milan. Lucille was in the highest spirits.
"If only this were a game instead of reality!" she said, flashing a brilliant smile at him across the table, "I should find it most fascinating. You seem to come to me always when I want you most.
And do you know, it is perfectly charming to be carried off by you in this manner."
Mr. Sabin smiled at her, and there was a look in his eyes which shone there for no other woman.
"It is in effect," he said, "keeping me young. Events seem to have enclosed us in a curious little cobweb. All the time we are struggling between the rankest primitivism and the most delicate intrigue. To-day is the triumph of primitivism."
"Meaning that you, the medieval knight, have carried me off, the distressed maiden, on your shoulder."
"Having confounded my enemy," he continued, smiling, "by an embarrassing situation, a little argument, and the distant view of a policeman's helmet."
"This," she remarked, with a little satisfied sigh as she selected an ortolan, "is a very satisfactory place to be carried off to.
And you," she added, leaning across the table and touching his fingers for a moment tenderly, "are a very delightful knight-errant."
He raised the fingers to his lips - the waiter had left the room.
She blushed, but yielded her hand readily enough.
"Victor," she murmured, "you would spoil the most faithless woman on earth for all her lovers. You make me very impatient."
"Impatience, then," he declared, "must be the most infectious of fevers. For I too am a terrible sufferer."
"If only the Prince," she said, "would be reasonable."
"I am afraid," Mr. Sabin answered, "that from him we have not much to hope for."
"Yet," she continued, "I have fulfilled all the conditions. Reginald Brott remains the enemy of our cause and Order. Yet some say that his influence upon the people is lessened. In any case, my work is over. He began to mistrust me long ago. To-day I believe that mistrust is the only feeling he has in connection with me. I shall demand my release."
"I am afraid," Mr. Sabin said, "that Saxe Leinitzer has other reasons for keeping you at Dorset House."
She shrugged her shoulders.
"He has been very persistent even before I left Vienna. But he must know that it is hopeless. I have never encouraged him."
"I am sure of it," Mr. Sabin said. "It is the incorrigible vanity of the man which will not be denied. He has been taught to believe himself irresistible. I have never doubted you for a single moment, Lucille. I could not. But you have been the slave of these people long enough. As you say, your task is over. Its failure was always certain. Brott believes in his destiny, and it will be no slight thing which will keep him from following it. They must give you back to me."
"We will go back to America," she said. "I have never been so happy as at Lenox."
"Nor I," Mr. Sahin said softly.
"Besides," she continued, "the times have changed since I joined the Society. In Hungary you know how things were. The Socialists were carrying all before them, a united solid body. The aristocracy were forced to enter into some sort of combination against them.
We saved Austria, I am not sure that we did not save Russia. But England is different. The aristocracy here are a strong resident class. They have their House of Lords, they own the land, and will own it for many years to come, their position is unassailable. It is the worst country in Europe for us to work in. The very climate and the dispositions of the people are inimical to intrigue. It is Muriel Carey who brought the Society here. It was a mistake. The country is in no need of it. There is no scope for it."
"If only one could get beyond Saxe Leinitzer," Mr. Sabin said.
She shook her head.
"Behind him," she said, "there is only the one to whom all reference is forbidden. And there is no man in the world who would be less likely to listen to an appeal from you - or from me."
