“Bavaria.”
“She’d have no interest in the Rhineland revolt, I suppose. By the way, Bob, we have bad reports of the spread of Bolshevism. The Bolshies are doing their best to scrap Germany, and some Germans would rather have it scrapped if they could scrap the Allies with it. Hello, the conference is over. What now, Bob?”
Franz turned on his heel and, making off across the snow, disappeared down the first street he came to. The twilight had deepened and, along the river, lights had sprung up and shone against the pearl-grey dusk. Elizabeth wrapped her shawl closer, stood a moment staring at the river, then faced about quickly, as though remembering her neglected duty, and came directly toward the spot where Bob and Larry were concealed.
She passed right in front of them, head bent and eyes on the ground. The street was empty and almost dark. Bob sprang from the sheltering doorway and in a dozen steps caught up with her, Larry at his heels.
“Elizabeth,” he said, touching her arm.
She turned and faced him, panting from her hurried walk, her thin cheeks pale in spite of the keen wind, and her dark eyes strangely troubled. At sight of Bob her glance softened, and, though there was something of uneasy hesitation in her voice, she smiled as she exclaimed, looking up at him in the light of a street-lamp:
“You, Mr. Bob! From where do you come here? Will you at the General’s stay? I must hurry back and the dinner get. Good-day to you, Captain Eaton.” This as Larry came beside Bob and nodded to her in silence.
Bob burst into speech. “Look here, Elizabeth, we’re too old friends for me to pretend anything with you. You’ve saved my life and you’ve watched over Lucy in German captivity. I can never forget that. Tell me the truth. What were you saying to Franz Kraft, and why did you come here to meet him?”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and she shrank back a little, with what Bob took to be either fear or suffering, though in the dim light he could not read her features. For a moment she did not answer and Bob, with a pang at his heart, as the doubt he would not harbor struggled for admittance, saw the bare hands clenched about her shawl shake a little. At last she spoke, her low voice eager and imploring:
“Dear Mr. Bob, you say you trust me. Then let me my secret keep! I cannot tell you all the truth now, because—because I cannot. But, Mr. Bob, believe me, it is a secret that can harm no one. Least of all could it harm you or any Americans. Soon you shall know all. Will not that content you?”