Then he felt a warm hand in his and lips at his ear.
"It is the person from Strassburg," she breathed. "He has been brought here for the night. There is no danger. Bolt the shutter again—but softly."
She was gone again, and Stewart, with a deep breath that was almost a sob, thrust home the bolt. The voices were clearer now—or perhaps it was the singing of his blood that was stilled—and he could hear their words.
"You will give this gentleman a room," said the secret agent.
"Yes, Excellency."
"How are your other guests?"
"I have heard nothing from them, Excellency, since they retired."
Suddenly Stewart felt his hat lifted from his head and a hand rumpling his hair.
"Take off your coat," whispered a voice. "Open the door a little and demand less noise. Say that I am asleep!"
It was a call to battle, and Stewart felt his nerves stiffen. Without a word he threw off his coat and tore off his collar. Then he moved away the chair from before the door, opened it, and put one eye to the crack. There were five people in the hall—the woman, the secret agent, two soldiers, and a man in civilian attire.