“You need not fear that. My reputation has long been at the mercy of all the lying braggarts in the country. Men label me socialist one day, individualist the next. I become communist or egotist, as is most convenient to the speaker and most damaging to myself. But there,” he exclaimed, regaining the tranquil serenity which characterized him, “why should I rail at the world when I might be talking to you? How is my old friend Hans?”
The sound of a key in the latch startled them.
“It is only Erica,” said Raeburn. “I had forgotten she was out.”
“My pretty little namesake! I should like to see her. Is she still a zealous little atheist?”
“No, she has become a Christian,” said Raeburn, speaking with some effort.
“So!” exclaimed Haeberlein, without further comment. He himself was of no particular creed; he was just indifferent, and the zeal of his friend often surprised him.
Raeburn went out into the passage, drew Erica into the front sitting room, and closed the door.
“There is an old friend of yours in my study,” he said. “He wishes to see you, but you must promise secrecy, for he is in danger.”
“Is it Herr Haeberlein?” asked Erica.
“Yes, on one of his rash, kindly errands, but one of which I don't approve. However, his work is over, and we must try to get him safely off to France. Come in with me if you will, but I wanted to tell you about it first, so that you should not be mixed up with this against your will, which would be unfair!”