Among her many virtues, she's one of the few women who
can keep a secret--her own and others. She is a magnificent actress--on
the stage and off. And now I have your promise to help me, I must tell
you it's to help her as well: therefore I owe you the whole truth, or
you will be handicapped. For several years Mademoiselle de Renzie has
done good service--secret service, you must understand--for Great
Britain."
"By Jove! Maxine a political spy!" Ivor broke out impulsively.
"That's rather a hard name, isn't it? There are better ones. And she's
no traitor to her country, because, as you perhaps know, she's Polish by
birth. I can assure you we've much for which to thank her cleverness and
tact--and beauty. For our sakes I'm sorry that she's serving our
interests professionally for the last time. For her own sake, I ought to
rejoice, as she's engaged to be married. And if you can save her from
coming to grief over this very ticklish business, she'll probably live
happily ever after. Did you know of her engagement?"
"No," replied Ivor. "I saw Miss de Renzie often when she was acting in
London a year ago; but after she went to Paris--of course, she's very
busy and has crowds of friends; and I've only crossed once or twice
since, on hurried visits; so we haven't met, or written to each other.
Pages:
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36