Jane was, of course, the sixth on the list. Twenty minutes elapsed before she was called in. ‘The Colonel’ was standing with his hands behind his back. He put her through a rapid catechism, tested her knowledge of French, and measured her height.

‘It is possible, mademoiselle,’ he said in French, ‘that you may suit. I do not know. But it is possible.’

‘What is this post, if I may ask?’ said Jane bluntly.

He shrugged his shoulders.

‘That I cannot tell you as yet. If you are chosen—then you shall know.’

‘This seems very mysterious,’ objected Jane. ‘I couldn’t possibly take up anything without knowing all about it. Is it connected with the stage, may I ask?’

‘The stage? Indeed, no.’

‘Oh!’ said Jane, rather taken aback.

He was looking at her keenly.

‘You have intelligence, yes? And discretion?’

‘I’ve quantities of intelligence and discretion,’ said Jane calmly. ‘What about the pay?’

‘The pay will amount to two thousand pounds—for a fortnight’s work.’

‘Oh!’ said Jane faintly.

She was too taken aback by the munificence of the sum named to recover all at once.

The Colonel resumed speaking.

‘One other young lady I have already selected. You and she are equally suitable. There may be others I have not yet seen. I will give you instruction as to your further proceedings. You know Harridge’s Hotel?’

Jane gasped. Who in England did not know Harridge’s Hotel? That famous hostelry situated modestly in a bystreet of Mayfair, where notabilities and royalties arrived and departed as a matter of course. Only this morning Jane had read of the arrival of the Grand Duchess Pauline of Ostrova. She had come over to open a big bazaar in aid of Russian refugees, and was, of course, staying at Harridge’s.

‘Yes,’ said Jane, in answer to the Colonel’s question.

‘Very good. Go there. Ask for Count Streptitch. Send up your card—you have a card?’

Jane produced one. The Colonel took it from her and inscribed in the corner a minute P. He handed the card back to her.

‘That ensures that the count will see you. He will understand that you come from me. The final decision lies with him—and another. If he considers you suitable, he will explain matters to you, and you can accept or decline his proposal. Is that satisfactory?’

‘Perfectly satisfactory,’ said Jane.

‘So far,’ she murmured to herself as she emerged into the street, ‘I can’t see the catch. And yet, there must be one. There’s no such thing as money for nothing. It must be crime! There’s nothing else left.’

Her spirits rose. In moderation Jane did not object to crime. The papers had been full lately of the exploits of various girl bandits. Jane had seriously thought of becoming one if all else failed.