The Golden Bough

by George Gibbs

"How do you know?" asked Rowland, eagerly.

"It's a Mercedes, sir," he said. "I know it by the shape of the hood."

If a machine went back and forth between the Villa Monteori and the city of Munich it was doubtless because of urgent affairs in which some official empowered to use automobiles was involved. Who but Hochwald? And what affairs, unless those of Tanya and the black bag of the Bayrischer Hof? Rowland had reached the point where he felt that he must leap at a conclusion of some sort. At any rate there were two men the less at the Villa Monteori and it was time to risk everything in an effort to bring this adventure to a conclusion whether in failure or success.

Rowland planned rapidly. A short distance below them there was a cross road which led down to the lake, at the foot of which in the dusk of the evening he had noticed a small pier or jetty near which a number of canoes, sailboats and row-boats were moored. He proposed to take one of these boats and under cover of the darkness, row down in the shadow of the bank to the stone steps of the villa which led from the terrace wall to the water. As the sky had now become cloudy and the night quite dark it would thus be possible to come unnoticed much nearer to the house than if he attempted to enter by the road or to cross the lawns where the stone wall must be climbed. Herr Benz would wait in the Pavilion which seemed to be deserted. If Rowland did not return before ten o'clock he was to take another row-boat with the other two men whom young Benz had gone to fetch from Starnberg and follow.

Benz demurred at first, professing a desire to share his dangers, but at last consented to the arrangement, and Rowland embarked and set off upon his solitary venture. As it was still early there were many young people out on the lake in canoes and sailboats returning to shore and the sounds of their voices came softly across the water.

Their presence in the neighborhood was reassuring and likely to distract the attention of any visitors at the Villa Monteori. Rowland slipped slowly down under the very shadow of the terrace wall where his boat drifted in close to the steps where Rowland listened for a long moment, and then fastened the painter to a ring in the wall and disembarked.

He had determined to enter this house and search it from top to bottom, regardless of consequences. A fool's errand? Perhaps; for he had little evidence to confirm his theory which after all had been born more of hope and desperation than any proof. And yet the chance was worth taking for at the best it meant merely a discussion with an irascible and asthmatic watchman; at the worst perhaps an encounter with a government official who had a private commission, with which he could have no concern, and this meant a rapid retreat and the saving of his skin. But the death of Berghof and the passage of the mysterious automobile from what was reported to be an untenanted house, had seemed to point him a way which he couldn't ignore. If Tanya were here the element of surprise would be in his favor, and as his head reached the level of the top of the steps, where he paused for a long moment of inspection of the house, he saw no indication of watchfulness on the part of those within. There were a rustic table and a number of benches and chairs upon the terrace, and crawling up on his hands and knees he hid himself behind a bench where he could examine the lower floor of the house at closer quarters.

There was a loggia enclosed in glass just before him. Within, in the main body of the house, a light was burning. At some risk of detection from the windows above he moved closer and quickly rising, turned the knob of the glass door. To his surprise it yielded and without hesitation he entered, closing it softly behind him.

"Careless beggars, to forget there was a lake," he muttered.

Rowland's spirits were fast rising, and his fingers were itching for a grip on something tangible, preferably the Adam's apple of Khodkine-Hochwald. Denied that, anyone else's would do. But a disappointment awaited him here, for the door to the main body of the house was locked. He drew aside into the shelter of the wall and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Not so dull, after all," he said to himself. "But I'll make it, if it takes the butt of an automatic."