I stared at her in amazement. Confound the man. Here he was cropping up again in this mysteriously unexpected fashion. "When did you get it?"
"Only a minute or two before that man called."
What on earth could it mean? It looked as if he had gone straight from his promise to help her to leave and then sent this. "Where have you to report?"
"The Amtstrasse," and she handed me the paper. It came from his offices and was signed in his own handwriting.
"I give it up. These beggars beat me every time. Only an hour or two back he told me that you should be sent back home," and I told her about that part of the interview and that he had said I could tell Rosa. "It's true he said something about making some inquiries about you, so as to be satisfied you're not a spy."
"Then of course he's going to begin by questioning me himself."
"Possibly, but—I get such different reports about him. You'll have to look out, too. He's sure to cross-examine you about me. I can't get it out of my head that he suspects I'm flying under the wrong flag. You'd better never have seen me before, mind; and whatever you do, look out for traps and things; and he's as artful as a cartload of monkeys at the game."
She was tremendously excited by the news about going home. I had to repeat every word he had said about it, and of course she got out of me that he had spoken about our going home together.
"Oh, wouldn't that be lovely!" she exclaimed.
"To go with me?"