Роберт Чамберс - Who Goes There!

"Kervyn, how can you get to Antwerp? You can't walk , dear!"

"We'll start on foot, anyway," he said cheerfully. "Now I must go. They're waiting. Why did you dress, Karen?"

"I don't know." She looked up at him in a dazed way. "I wanted to be with you."

"I'm going back to the forest, dear."

"Could I come?"

"No. I don't want you to be out at night. There's only a fireless camp there and a dozen ragged and dirty men. Besides, there might be some sort of trouble."

"Trouble?"

"Not likely. Still there might be patrols out from Trois Fontaines, even from Lesse. I don't know. Michaud says he can take us across the railway line before daylight. If he can do that I think we shall find the country clear beyond. Anyway, we'll know soon. Now I must say good–bye."

She laid her cold hands in his, tried to speak, but could not. Then, of a sudden, her fingers gripped his in terror; there came the rushing swish of an automobile around the gravel circle outside, a loud resonant humming, a sharp voice speaking in German, a quick reply in the same tongue.

"The—the valet's room. Quick!" she gasped, pushing him backward across the room and through the doorway. Behind him the swinging leather door closed silently again; the girl stood rigid, white as a sheet, then she walked to the oak table, picked up a book, and dropped into the depths of a leather arm–chair.

Outside the mellow whirr of the motor had ceased; the door of the car closed with a click; quick, firm steps ascended the path; there came a low jingling sound, the clash of metal, then a key was rattled in the outer lock, turned sharply, and the door creaked open.

Karen rose to her feet. Every atom of colour had fled her cheeks.

"Karen!"

"You?" she said in a ghost of her own voice.

Kurt von Reiter seemed astonished. He came forward very quickly, a tall, thin, faultless figure moulded perfectly into his tight sea–grey uniform. Bending only a very little from the waist as though too tightly buttoned in, he bowed above the icy hand she extended, paid his respects with flawless courtesy, straightened up, placed his shrouded spiked helmet on the table.

"I had scarcely expected to find you awake," he said. "It is after two o'clock in the morning."

She made a supreme effort at self–control.

"I have been a trifle nervous, Kurt. There was trouble at Lesse Forest last evening."

"Yes. Who told you?"

"I was there."

"At Lesse!"

"Yes, a guest of Mrs. Courland—an American lady."

"I know about her. She is a friend of Mr. Guild."

Karen nodded; a painful and fixed smile quivered in her colourless lips.

"Was Mr. Guild there also?" inquired von Reiter.

"Yes."

"He left with the others, I suppose."

She said: "Everybody was in a panic. I invited them to come here, but a patrol from Trois Fontaines galloped up and ordered them to go through Luxembourg—across the Dutch frontier. It seemed very harsh."

The girl had seated herself again; von Reiter drew up a chair beside the table opposite her and sat down. Candle light played over his dry, sandy–blond face and set his blue eyes glittering.

"Are you well, Karen?"

"Quite, thank you. And you?"

"God be thanked, in perfect health." He did not mention three broken ribs still bandaged and which had interfered with the perfectly ceremonious bow of a German officer.

He said: "I took this opportunity to come. It was my first chance to see you. Been travelling since noon."

"You—remain tonight?"

"I can not. I came for one reason only. You know what it is, Karen."

She did not answer.

He waited a moment, looked absently around the room, glanced up at the stag's antlers, then his gaze returned to her.

"Were you much frightened by what happened at Lesse?" he asked. "You do not look well."

"I am well."

"Did you experience any trouble in leaving England?"

"Yes, some."

"And Mr. Guild? Was he—useful?"

"Yes."

Von Reiter gazed at the girl thoughtfully. One elbow rested on the table corner, the clenched fist supporting his chin. In the other hand he continued to crumple his gloves between lean, powerful, immaculate fingers.

"Karen," he said, "did you bring with you whatever papers you happened to possess at the time?"

After a moment the girl answered in a low voice: "No."

"Did you destroy them?"

"No."

"What became of them?" he insisted. A mottled flush gathered on his cheek–bones; after a few seconds the carefully scrubbed features of the man grew pink.

"What papers had you?" he asked.

She looked up at him in silence and a deeper colour stained his face so that in contrast his pale mustache, en croc, and his clipped hair appeared almost white.

"Kurt," she said, "how could you permit me to be involved in such matters?"

"Karen, do you imagine I supposed that war with England was imminent? I never dreamed that England would intervene! And when she did, and when it was already too late to reach you, the anxiety concerning you, and concerning what papers might still be passing from the Edmeston Agency through your hands, nearly drove me insane."

"Yet you instructed me to bring back with me any papers I might have in my possession."

"I tell you I did not count on war with England. Nobody did. I meant only that you were to bring with you what papers you had when you returned. Did not Grätz instruct you to destroy your papers?"

"No."

Von Reiter's lean jaws snapped. "Then what did you do with them?"

"I put them into my satchel. On board the steamer the satchel was opened and the papers taken."

Anger, apprehension, twitched at his thin lips; then a deeper emotion softened the grim lines of his features.

"God be thanked," he said, "that you were not involved in England. It was a living nightmare to me—that constant uncertainty concerning you. I could not reach you; I could do nothing, make no arrangements. Cipher code was forbidden even from neutral countries. It was only at the last moment I found a secret wireless lane still open to us. In that way I managed to notify Grätz that this man Guild was on his way to find you and bring you back here; that no more papers were to be sent through you to me; and that what you had were to be destroyed. Did you hear from him at all?"

"He telephoned that my maid had been arrested on a serious charge and that I was to leave Hyacinth Villa at once with Mr. Guild. He said nothing about papers. But I remembered what I had promised you, and I put into my satchel what papers I had…. They nearly lost me my life," she added, gazing steadily at him.

"Do you mean to say that you knew the papers were compromising and still you undertook to bring them? Were you insane to attempt such a thing?"

"Had I not promised you, Kurt?"

"Circumstances alter conditions and absolve promises however solemn. Common sense decides where honour is involved."

She flushed brightly: "There I am more English than German, Kurt. A promise is a promise, and not"—she looked at him musingly—"not what the British press reproaches us for calling a 'scrap of paper.'"

He said grimly: "When a supposed friend suddenly aims a blow at you, strike first if you can and discuss the ethics afterward. We tore up that 'scrap of paper' before the dirty fingers of England could clutch it, that's all."

"And lost the world's sympathy. Oh, Kurt!"

"But we retained the respect born of fear. We invaded Belgium before the others could do it, that's all…. I do not care to discuss the matter. The truth is known to us and that is sufficient."

"It is not sufficient if you desire the sympathy of the world."

Von Reiter's eyes became paler and fixed and he worried the points of his up–brushed mustache with powerful, lean fingers.