Elizabeth glanced sharply about her as though in search of someone. Bob and Larry, by silent agreement, paused in the shadow of a house and watched her, Bob with unlimited amazement. She made no attempt to conceal herself as she walked near the river, looking down the sloping banks at the broad-flowing current. Then, shivering, she drew her shawl closer, turning impatiently at every few seconds.
Bob suddenly explained her behavior to himself and said to Larry, with scorn at his own bewilderment, “Why, she’s only come here to meet a friend, and take a little walk. What else could it be? I’m going to speak to her.”
As he stepped from the sidewalk to cross the snow, a man appeared, hurrying out from a near-by street, his hands thrust in his jacket pockets, something awkward and sullen about his gait and bearing.
Bob stopped short in his tracks and held his breath. “Franz!” he said aloud.
“Come back into this doorway. Don’t let them see you,” begged Larry, tugging at his sleeve.
Elizabeth and Franz were not noticing them. They were standing engaged in earnest conversation. Elizabeth’s face was raised in a kind of pleading, while Franz spoke volubly, with gestures which seemed to mark at one moment the river before them, at others the necessity for compliance with whatever he urged or commanded.
Bob stood motionless in the shadow of the doorway, his mind whirling as he searched for some reason for Elizabeth’s conduct. An explanation there must be. He would not and could not accuse her of treachery, and he felt indignant with Larry for his evident suspicions.
“I wouldn’t go out at all now, Bob. Let’s follow them back. You take one and I the other,” Larry murmured.
“She’s doing nothing wrong,” Bob protested hotly. “I tell you I know her. We don’t understand, that’s all.”
“No, I certainly don’t,” agreed Larry. “What part of Germany is she from, do you know?”