"
"Careful, Mr. Harleston!" she reminded.
He put her in the taxi; bowed and turned back into the hotel--wondering
why he had ever fancied Madeline Spencer.
Mrs. Clephane gave her orders to the chauffeur, ending with the
injunction to drive slowly.
As they swung into Sixteenth Street, a taxi standing before St. John's
Episcopal Church followed them; and Mrs. Clephane recognized Harleston
as its occupant.
At the French Embassy she descended and rang the bell, and was instantly
admitted by a liveried footman.
"I wish to see his Excellency the Ambassador!" she said, speaking in
French.
The flunky took her card and bowed her into a small reception room.
After a moment or so a dapper young man entered, her card in his
fingers.
"Messes Cleephane?" he inquired.
"I am Mrs. Clephane," she replied in French. "I wish to see his
Excellency the Ambassador on a most important matter."
"You have an appointment with his Excellency?" he asked, this time in
French.
"You are--" she inflected.
"His secretary, madame," the young man bowed.
"No, I have not an appointment," she replied, "but I come from Madame
Durrand who was the bearer of a cipher letter from the Foreign Minister.
Madame Durrand was injured as she was about to take train in New York,
and gave me the letter to deliver.
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