A Traitor in London by Fergus Hume — Read

As Lady Jenny had expected, Mr. van Zwieten proved himself to be a wise man by presenting himself in her drawing-room at the appointed hour. He was in evening dress, calm and composed as usual, and greeted her with a low bow. She could not help admiring his self-possession. His reputation, his liberty even, was at stake, and yet he never turned a hair. And with these feelings uppermost, she received him more kindly, perhaps, than she would otherwise have done. The Dutchman, taking his cue from her, that the conversation, despite its probable sensational character, was not to be conducted on melodramatic lines, reciprocated her politeness. Any one seeing the pair might have imagined that they were discussing nothing of more importance than "Shakespeare and the musical glasses," rather than a subject which, to one of them, at least, meant life or death.

The hostess, in a black silk dinner dress, with a few well-chosen jewels, looked unusually pretty in the light of the lamps, and Van Zwieten was an admirer of pretty women, and knew well how to make himself agreeable to them. Had the subject-matter of their conversation been only less serious, he would have enjoyed himself. As it was, he did not find the hour he spent with her irksome. For a few moments the two antagonists discussed general topics, and then Lady Jenny came suddenly to the point. The man watched her warily. Pretty she might be, but that was no reason why he should allow her to get the better of him. It was a duel of words, and the combatants were well matched.