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 of the English Government. It’s my word against his. You can believe me or not if you like. Rizzio is a spy of Germany!”

“Impossible! John Rizzio” she whispered aghast.

He laughed.

“The pot callin’ the kettle black—what? It’s the truth.”

“But Rizzio! What object would he have in betraying England? A man of his position!”

“That’s the kind of men England’s enemies want,” put in Cyril dryly.

“But he has no need of money. Not money. Impossible!”

“No, not money. There are other things that John Rizzio values more than money.”

“What?”

He caught her by the arm impressively to make his meaning clear. “You don’t know the passion of collectors. They would sell their souls for the things they want. The things that seem impossible are the things they want the most.”

“But I don’t understand.”

“After the war Rizzio is to be permitted to ‘buy’ Rubens’s ‘Descent from the Cross’ from the German Government.”

“Oh!” she gasped in horror. A new idea of the terrible possibilities of duplicity was borne to her. But she couldn’t believe.

“How do you know this?” she asked.

He laughed.

“It’s one of the things I stopped in London to find out.”

“Then you”