The German obeyed in silence, his red face flushing deeper with apprehension, his shrewd eyes turning with frightened haste from Larry to Major Harding in hope of some chance of conciliation.
“I the little savings from the wood-sellings have with me——” he faltered, obviously racking his brain for a plausible story.
In silence Larry took from his pockets a revolver, a half dozen cartridges, about two hundred marks in money, a promissory note for eighty marks signed by von Eckhardt, and, lastly, a square of pasteboard on which was stamped a pilot’s license to navigate a steam tug or launch between Cologne and Mayence.
All during Larry’s search Karl cast beseeching glances toward his captors, thrusting his tongue out between his teeth in his agonized attempt to find some satisfactory explanation.
“Nothing wrong, just my business. The Herr Officers don’t accuse me of anything—is it not so?” he jerked out with a feeble assumption of frankness. “Surely the war is over.”
“Now, Franz,” said Larry, turning his attention to the woodcutter, who stood by, silent and morose as ever.
This search revealed nothing of interest but a key, which Larry guessed to be that of Herr Johann’s lodge. Reminded of Franz’ arrogant master, he inquired:
“Franz, where is Herr Johann? Why didn’t he come with you?”
Instead of answering, as Larry expected he would, that Herr Johann had nothing to do with Karl’s and Elizabeth’s meeting, Franz started, looked again toward the window, then back at Larry, with terror in his eyes. His sour lips opened in desperate haste, though all he managed to say was to mutter, “I do not know where he is, Herr Officer.”
Lucy, now satisfied of Elizabeth’s innocence, watched her old nurse’s unhappy face with a warm throb of pity, and could hardly forgive herself for her suspicions.