“There is no Leopold here,” he replied; “you yourself have said it.”

She came a little nearer.  “Upon the lips,” she whispered.

He held her, stooped down, and their lips met.  Then she stood apart from him.  Her eyes were for a moment closed, her hands were extended as though to prevent any chance of his approaching her again.

“Now I know the truth,” she muttered.

Dominey found an opportunity to draw Seaman away from his little group of investment-seeking friends.

“My friend,” he said, “trouble grows.”

“Anything more from Schmidt’s supposed emissary?” Seaman asked quickly.

“No.  I am going to keep away from him this evening, and I advise you to do the same.  The trouble is with the Princess.”

“With the Princess,” declared Seaman.  “I think you have blundered.  I quite appreciate your general principles of behaving internally and externally as though you were the person whom you pretend to be.  It is the very essence of all successful espionage.  But you should know when to make exceptions.  I see grave objections myself to your obeying the Kaiser’s behest.  On the other hand, I see no objection whatever to your treating the Princess in a more human manner, to your visiting her in London, and giving her more ardent proofs of your continued affection.”

“If I once begin—­”

“Look here,” Seaman interrupted, “the Princess is a woman of the world.  She knows what she is doing, and there is a definite tie between you.  I tell you frankly that I could not bear to see you playing the idiot for a moment with Lady Dominey, but with the Princess, scruples don’t enter into the question at all.  You should by no means make an enemy of her.”

“Well, I have done it,” Dominey acknowledged.  “She has gone off to bed now, and she is leaving early to-morrow morning.  She thinks I have borrowed some West African magic, that I have left her lover’s soul out there and come home in his body.”

“Well, if she does,” Seaman declared, “you are out of your troubles.”

“Am I!” Dominey replied gloomily.  “First of all, she may do a lot of mischief before she goes.  And then, supposing by any thousand to one chance the story of this cousin of Schmidt’s should be true, and she should find Dominey out there, still alive?  The Princess is not of German birth, you know.  She cares nothing for Germany’s future.  As a matter of fact, I think, like a great many Hungarians, she prefers England.  They say that an Englishman has as many lives as a cat.  Supposing that chap Dominey did come to life again and she brings him home?  You say yourself that you do not mean to make much use of me until after the war has started.  In the parlance of this country of idioms, that will rather upset the apple cart, will it not?”

“Has the Princess a suite of rooms here?” Seaman enquired.

“Over in the west wing.  Good idea!  You go and see what you can do with her.  She will not think of going to bed at this time of night.”