“Franz?” Herr Johann glanced at the woodcutter, as though puzzling over Bob’s words. Then he said tolerantly, speaking of Franz as though he were deaf and blind, “Why, Herr Captain, the woodcutter is a poor, simple fellow, who has learned caution in the war’s hard school when we Germans were surrounded by enemies. He hesitated to talk without my consent, of my business. Do not bear him a grudge for his faithfulness.”
Impatiently Bob sought to brush away this curtain of useless words and get at the facts that lay behind. But Herr Johann’s calm courtesy was more impenetrable than anger.
“I don’t see why Franz could not have mentioned his business with you,” he objected. “Why such secrecy? Unless it is indeed a doubtful business which you steal through the forest at night to transact.”
He spoke warmly, hoping to stir Herr Johann from his watchful politeness, but the German answered coolly as ever:
“You mean at my little hunting-lodge? You suspect that of harboring guilty secrets? Herr Captain, come with me now and inspect it at your leisure. Or I will give you the key and you can go when you please.”
“How about this?” asked Bob, pulling from his pocket the memoranda Lucy had picked up and holding it before Herr Johann’s eyes.
The German took it from him and examined it with such slow intentness that Bob could only imagine he was planning a plausible reply. Franz had flashed a startled look into his employer’s face, but seeing Herr Johann calm as before, he let fall his gaze again, turned to throw wood on the fire and stood slowly rubbing the bark from his big hands.
In a minute Herr Johann spoke, in his quiet, well-bred voice. “I could not make this out at first,” he explained. “You picked it up somewhere? I fancy it must have been dropped by a farmer passing through the forest. It seems to be a list of places he visited with his supplies. For instance, to woodcutter Zimmermann at Feldheim—that’s ten miles north of here—he left such and such produce. Franz, thy name is here. Dost thou buy thy cabbages from a Badheim farmer?”
Franz, after a quick glance into Herr Johann’s face, nodded. Herr Johann turned to Bob and, as though with a sudden recollection of the American’s suspicions, asked:
“You did not see conspiracy in this?”