Rowland, who had stood uneasily, bag in hand, now found refuge in a smile.
"Harmless--yes," stammered Zoya. "Herr Leo Knaus--Herr General Graf----"
"No names, Madame," broke in the tall officer with a smile. "Good-bye--and remember that Argus had a hundred eyes----"
And with one keen look which seemed to sweep them both comprehendingly, from top to toe, the Herr General clicked his heels and departed. Zoya Rochal remained as though frozen to the floor, looking after him. Rowland caught her by the arm and moved slowly toward the door.
"Sardonic old pelican!" he said with a grin. "Would you mind telling me who in the devil----?"
"The devil himself," she broke in, with a stifled voice. "Graf von Stromberg!"
CHAPTER XIV
THE CLUE
The shock of Madame Rochal's announcement took Rowland's breath away. If they had needed any explanation of the disappearance of the black bag, here surely was one which would have satisfied the most exacting. Von Stromberg--head of the Prussian secret service--the most hated, the most feared man in all Europe!
The jig was up. Rowland shrugged, making up his mind to bluff it out to the end, and so with his hand on Zoya's nerveless arm, walked with an appearance of great carelessness toward the door of the station, beyond which their cab was awaiting them. An official stood near the door and a soldier nearby but when Rowland reached the man, he merely preened at his mustache and smiled at Zoya. They reached the door. Still no arrest. The thing was interesting. What was the game? In the doorway Rowland stopped, put down the bag and in spite of the whispers of Zoya Rochal deliberately faced the door while he lighted a cigarette. The official had turned his back. The soldier had walked away.