“Yes—that’s so. But some one might look in here, by chance.”
“We couldn’t be recognized. It’s too dark.”
“Yes—but can’t we drive somewhere else?”
“Just as you like.” He called to the driver, who did not seem to hear. Franz leaned forward and touched the man.
“Turn around again. What are you whipping your horses like that for? We’re in no hurry, I tell you. Drive—let me see—yes—drive down the avenue that leads to the Reichs Bridge.”
“The Reichsstrasse?”
“Yes. But don’t hurry so, there’s no need of it.”
“All right, sir. But it’s the wind that makes the horses so crazy.”
Franz sat back again as the carriage turned in the other direction.
“Why didn’t I see you yesterday?”