Michelle shook her head. “Very little. I think they are looking at a map or plan or something of that sort.”
They strained their ears once more. Now bottles clinked and it was plain that a glass of beer was cheering the night conference. It was cold standing in the snow, with the frosty breath of the pines blown against them, and Lucy and Michelle shivered and moved their cold, cramped limbs in weary discouragement, as a long half hour crept by. Not a single revealing sentence could they catch from the steady talk within, and the few fragments they heard told them no more than that the three men were planning something that involved time, distance, and secrecy.
When the listeners’ patience was exhausted and by glances exchanged they had agreed to retreat, the talk within suddenly died down to monosyllables, chairs grated and footsteps crossed the floor. With one accord Lucy and Michelle fled back into the forest’s shelter, but, scarcely a dozen yards from the door of the lodge, they hid behind the evergreen branches and breathlessly watched for the men to come out.
Herr Johann came first, in about ten minutes. He stepped over the threshold pulling on his gloves, his Alpine cap cocked on one side, a look of satisfaction on his arrogant features. The man who had last entered the lodge followed him, and the two exchanged a handshake on the door-step, while Herr Johann said heartily:
“Until we meet again! May all go well.”
“As well as these black times permit,” responded the other, somewhat despondently.
To this Herr Johann protested with commanding energy, “Ach, what talk is that? We shall snatch something from ruin, if it is no more than to see those——”
The rest of the phrase was lost to Lucy’s and Michelle’s ears as the two men walked straight ahead of the lodge toward the forest. At the edge of the woodland they paused and shook hands again. Then Herr Johann went on into the wood, the second man turned back, and, passing close to where the listeners were hidden, walked quickly on over the moonlit snow between the trees until his steps were lost in the forest.
At his nearness Lucy and Michelle had almost stopped breathing to shrink back among the fir-tree’s branches. But, once the danger past, they looked out again as a key rattled in the lodge door and the man called Ludwig came out, having left all dark within. He was wrapped in a rough jacket and wore a woolen cap. His feet were covered with heavy boots and he walked stoopingly. Lucy wondered if he were not the companion of Herr Johann’s former visit to Franz’ cottage, and tried to get a glimpse of his face. But he kept it bent over the lock, which he tried again and again to make sure it was fast before he left the door-step. Then, thrusting his bare hands into his pockets, he strode off, head bent, at his slow, awkward gait, and in turn disappeared into the forest.
“Wait a minute and give them time to get away,” said Michelle, still whispering from lingering uneasiness. “I do not at all want to meet any of them.”