was coming out of the State Department, he met Pembroke face to face.
Pembroke had chafed with inward fury at the cleverness with which Volkonsky had managed to avoid him. Therefore when he passed the Russian Minister's carriage with Madame Volkonsky sitting in it alone at the foot of the steps, he was certain that Volkonsky was in the State Department, and that he could catch him—for it had assumed the form of a flight and a pursuit. Pembroke took off his hat and bowed profoundly to Madame Volkonsky. She could not but fancy there was a glimmer of sarcasm in his manner—a sarcasm she returned by a bow still lower. Pembroke could have leaped up the steps in his anxiety to reach the building before Volkonsky left—but he controlled himself and mounted leisurely. Once inside the door, he started at a long stride down the corridor, and in two minutes he had, figuratively speaking, collared Volkonsky.
"I want to speak with you," said Pembroke.
"With pleasure," responded Volkonsky, "but I may ask you to be brief, as Madame Volkonsky awaits me in her carriage."
"I will be brief. But I desire you to come to my club—here is my card—at six o'clock this evening."
Volkonsky straightened himself up. He determined not to yield without making a fight for it.
"Are you aware of your language, Meestar Pembroke?"
