Lucy’s eyes were fastened on Elizabeth’s face, reading in the features she knew so well the only possible reason for this seeming faithlessness. The little German woman’s eyes were soft, earnest and pleading as ever. Their troubled glance spoke indecision, unhappiness, entreaty—anything but conspiracy.
“She came here to see Karl,” Lucy told herself, and, defending Elizabeth, she sought hard to prove Elizabeth’s companions innocent—to find the harmless explanation for which she longed. “Franz brought her out of kindness. She dared not have Karl come to Coblenz.”
“I’m going in,” said Major Harding suddenly.
Larry caught his arm. “What for? What reason will you give—the truth?”
“I have all the reasons I need—those I told you. Franz’ conduct is enough, and I’d like to face Karl Müller——”
“Elizabeth’s husband?” asked Larry quickly. “Ah-h—then she came here to see him.”
“Yes, I rather think poor Elizabeth has been a cat’s-paw in these rascals’ hands. The boatman had better come, too, Eaton, though I don’t think they’ll show any violence.”
“There are two doors,” said Larry. “Ed, you guard the back one. Here’s my revolver. Let no one out.”
As Larry spoke he stepped up to the front door of the cottage, lost in shadow beneath its spreading gable, and knocked loudly on the shaky casement, which rattled with his blows. Immediately a deep silence succeeded Karl’s rumbling voice. No answer, and Larry rapped again, this time with determination.
“They’ve put out the candle,” said Major Harding, glancing around at the window. “Don’t do any peeking, Lucy. Stay behind me. They may put up a fight.”