houses; tenements for the middle class or poor, I might have said. The
neighborhood, I knew from my acquaintance with the city, was respectable
enough, yet it was remote, and occupied by none of any station.
Certainly it was not to be considered fit residence for a woman such as
this who sat beside me. I admit I was puzzled. The strange errand of my
chief now assumed yet more mystery, in spite of his forewarnings.

"This will do," said she softly, at length. The driver already had
pulled up.

So, then, I thought, she had been here before. But why? Could this
indeed be her residence? Was she incognita here? Was this indeed the
covert embassy of England?

There was no escape from the situation as it lay before me. I had no
time to ponder. Had the circumstances been otherwise, then in loyalty to
Elisabeth I would have handed my lady out, bowed her farewell at her own
gate, and gone away, pondering only the adventures into which the
beckoning of a white hand and the rustling of a silken skirt betimes
will carry a man, if he dares or cares to go. Now, I might not leave. My
duty was here. This was my message; here was she for whom it was
intended; and this was the place which I was to have sought alone. I
needed only to remember that my business was not with Helena von Ritz
the woman, beautiful, fascinating, perhaps dangerous as they said of
her, but with the Baroness von Ritz, in the belief of my chief the ally
and something more than ally of Pakenham, in charge of England's
fortunes on this continent. I did remember my errand and the gravity of
it. I did not remember then, as I did later, that I was young.

I descended at the edge of the narrow pavement, and was about to hand