The Golden Bough

by George Gibbs

"Wait here," he said at last. "I will go and inquire."

So Rowland concealed himself in a clump of shrubbery within the grounds while he watched the figure of Benz go around the turn in the road toward the house until he was lost in the shadows. He had promised not to move, but every impulse urged him to follow and pursue the investigation in his own way, for he felt sure that the end of the chase was near. But he realized that Herr Benz had reasons for his method of approach and decided at least for the present to await in patience the result of his investigation. After awhile he heard the footsteps of the man crunching the gravel of the driveway and in a moment had joined him.

Benz was shaking his head.

"I went to the kitchen and saw the housekeeper, telling her of the new order as to the slight increase this summer of the ration of war bread. She had not known of it and was thankful for the information, but informed me that her own orders from the Baron were strict and that her household had been reduced to three persons, so that what she was allowed would be sufficient. Further conversation followed and she took me to see the view of the lake from the terrace. There is no one there, Herr Rowland, but the three servants. I would take my oath to it."

Rowland's hopes fell. And yet he realized that after all the decision of Herr Benz had been a wise one.

"Did you make any inquiries in regard to the villa of Count Monteori?" he asked.

"Yes, and they know nothing."

And so the two men went northward again more rapidly.

The Monteori villa, like that of Baron von Speck, lay within spacious grounds well wooded, the house itself, built of stone and stucco, like many of those famous residences on the lakes of Italy, just upon the edge of the lake, the waters of which lapped the base of the stone wall which protected its terrace and garden. As Benz had said, it had long been unoccupied except for two servants and if the Prussian government had seen fit to use it, for purposes of its own, the fact could, he thought, be quite easily discovered. But the method of approach which had been so successful in the case of the house of Baron von Speck might be hazardous here, since Herr Benz was not upon terms with the caretaker, Taglitz, a north German, an old man of a violent temper who suffered much from asthma. Last year Benz had quarreled with him about the payment of a bill. And so it was decided that he and Rowland should separate before they reached the place, moving with caution under the protection of whatever cover availed, in a quiet investigation of the lighted windows and garden. Rowland chose the side toward the lake and leaving the road where the shadows of the trees afforded protection, moved down through the underbrush cautiously, peering forward, waiting and listening and then making a long detour to avoid a stretch of lawn until he reached a small ravine, down which a stream trickled to the lake below. Progress was slow because of the necessity for caution, but at last he emerged near the edge of the lake and hidden behind a huge rock gazed upward toward the windows of the house, less than two hundred feet away.

He saw that a wall of stone separated the terrace from the lawns. There was a gate in the wall probably locked so that it seemed as though the best mode of approach would be from the lake itself to the stairs which led up to the terrace.