"You know her!" exclaimed His Excellency, unclasping his thin white hands and leaning across his big writing-table--a habit of his when suddenly interested. "Is she a personal friend of yours?" "Where did you know her?" he inquired quickly, fixing me with that sharp pair of black eyes that shone behind the zone of soft light shed by the green-shaded reading-lamp upon the table. He was sitting in the shadow, his thin, refined face ashen grey, his hair almost white. The one spot of colour was the fine star of Knight Grand Cross of the Bath glittering on the breast of his braided diplomatic uniform. Lord Barmouth, British Ambassador to the French Republic, had just returned from the President'…
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