"Mademoiselle Sonia is perhaps connected with the regulation of the munition supplies from America?"
"Mademoiselle Sonia," Lutchester asserted, "is an old friend of mine. Apart from that, it was my business to talk to her."
Lutchester assented with perfect gravity.
"Within a day or two," he said, "now, if you made a point of it, I could explain a great deal."
Pamela threw herself into a chair almost irritably.
"You have the cult of being mysterious, Mr. Lutchester," she declared. "To be quite frank with you, you seem to be the queerest mixture of any man I ever knew."
"It is the fault of circumstances," he regretted, "if I am sometimes compelled to present myself to you in an unfavourable light. Those circumstances are passing. You will soon begin to value me at my true worth."
"We had half promised," Pamela murmured, "to go out with Mr. Fischer this evening."
"The more reason for my intervention," Lutchester observed. "Fischer is not a fit person for you to associate with."
"People who saw you at the roof-garden last night might say that you were scarcely a judge," Pamela retorted.
"People who did not know the circumstances might have considered me guilty of an indiscretion," Lutchester admitted, "but they would have been entirely wrong. On the other hand, your friend Fischer is a would-be murderer, a liar, and is at the present moment engaged in intrigues which are a most immoral compound of duplicity and cunning."
"I shall begin to think," Pamela murmured, "that you don't like Mr. Fischer!"
"I detest him heartily," Lutchester confessed.
"I find him singularly interesting," Pamela announced, sitting up in her chair.
"I dare say you do," Lutchester replied. "Women are always bad judges of our sex. All the same, you are not going to marry him."
"How do you know he wants to marry me?" Pamela demanded.
"And what do you mean by saying that I am not going to marry him?"
"Because," Lutchester announced, "you are going to marry some one else."
Pamela rose to her feet. There was a little spot of colour in her cheeks.
"Am I indeed!" she exclaimed. "And whom, pray?"
"That I will tell you at Washington," Lutchester promised.
"I know him intimately," was the cool reply. "What about our dinner to-night?"