The clerk, believing at once that de Rochelle was referring to his shady dealings on the Street, in his note to Sana, set about to destroy the note upon the radiator. He had been equally guilty in these money matters and wanted to hide his trail as much as possible. It was while crossing the Bridge that his mind, haunted by the fear of possible consequences, gave way and he took the fatal leap.
Once more had Fate thrown Sana and de Rochelle together. To the girl it meant grave dangers and misery. In the silence of her apartment she determined to leave the place—secretly if necessary. Slipping quietly down to the lobby of the hotel, she dispatched a message to her mother, announcing her intention to come home. Sana realized what she would have to sacrifice, but nothing counted. She only wanted to get away, far away from de Rochelle.
The following day, about noon, Sana was crossing the gardens at the Kurhaus, where hundreds were promenading and listening to the band. She had been shopping, purchasing little odds and ends, among them gifts for her mother.
Suddenly a hand was placed upon her arm. Frightened she turned to confront de Rochelle. She tried to evade him, but he only grasped her arm more tightly so that escape was impossible. In a low, but not unkindly tone, de Rochelle spoke, asking her to join him at lunch at the Messmer. Sana refused and while he was insisting upon her doing so, aid came in the form of Heinecke.
A few curt words from him placed de Rochelle on the defensive. An instance later, however, Heinecke had taken his glove and struck de Rochelle across the face. Taking Sana’s arm he walked off, leaving the furious de Rochelle, whose face had turned to ashen gray, to cry, “You will meet me?”
Heinecke turned, drew himself up to full height and with a stiff bow, retorted, “I am at your service!”
The next morning, before Heinecke had arisen, a knock was heard at his door. The seconds of de Rochelle were announced. They had come to inform him that de Rochelle was the insulted one and that he was exercising his privilege of choosing weapons. He had decided upon pistols, shots to be exchanged until one or the other fell.
Had Heinecke the option he would have chosen the sabre of his student days, that being his favorite weapon. However, he was not afraid. His army training had taught him the use of a pistol, and in his heart he was sure that this affair would certainly win Sana.
Sana, however, on hearing of the coming duel, sought Heinecke and begged him to desist, saying “de Rochelle is an expert in the use of a pistol. I have seen him sever a telephone cord at twenty paces and hit a plum I had thrown into the air.”
To which entreaties Heinecke replied, with a shrug of his shoulders, “This is an affair of honor.”