"And if the Herr General should send?"
"You need not worry. That has been arranged. He believes that you knew nothing of the others. Good by," she finished at the street door. "You shall be rewarded----"
"Im Himmel," muttered Frau Nisko cynically, as she watched the slim figure of Zoya Rochal go swiftly down the street toward the bridge. "And Matthias Markov--he also."
Then she slowly turned and reëntered the house.
CHAPTER XXII
PILGRIMS
It was with trembling limbs and a heavy heart that Tanya had followed Herr Markov carrying the black bag down the stairs of the house in the Schwaiger Strasse, through the rear door to the small street and the stable which sheltered Fra Umberto and the "instrument of torture"--alas! now the instrument of torture no longer, for all its insides had been removed during the early afternoon and hidden in a box under a pile of hay. Herr Markov had sighed as he gazed at the empty case, but there was no time to be lost and after having assured themselves that they had escaped observation, Tanya had unpacked the black valise, transferring its contents to the body of the machine and concealing the luckless bag in a dusty crib under a pile of lumber. Then as they wished to be well beyond the city before sun-down, Markov had hitched Fra Umberto, Tanya had clambered in, sitting on the pile of bank notes and they had silently driven away.
The escape had seemed simplicity itself, and with the passage of the last post of soldiers at the edge of the city Tanya had gathered hope that their perilous venture would be successful. She had tried not to think of Philippe Rowland. She had hoped when their plan was first spoken of, that Rowland was to impersonate Herr Markov, and using his papers make the desperate effort to get through to Switzerland alone with her. But Herr Markov had willed otherwise (and wisely perhaps) and Philippe had been left there--alone with Zoya--sharing a terrible danger, but yet terrible as the danger was, Tanya could not help thinking that she would much have preferred anyone else to have shared it with Philippe than Zoya Rochal.
During the first night of their pilgrimage Tanya had been very miserable. The confined space had cramped her muscles and the jolting of the vehicle seemed to be jarring every nerve in her body, but Herr Markov had evidently deemed it of the utmost importance to cover as many miles away from Munich in the early hours of the evening and night as was possible for man and beast. Occasionally, when the way was clear, he had conversed with her cheerfully, bidding her keep up her courage and asking after her comfort; and to all of his questions she had answered bravely, changing her position as she could and patiently awaiting the hour of her deliverance. And it had come at last toward midnight when Herr Markov had halted the donkey and invited Tanya to get out of her box. The invitation, welcome though it was, had not been easy of acceptance, and it was only with the help of Herr Markov's long arms that she had been able to climb over the sides of her prison and descend.
She had found herself in a dim country lane which led to a small farm-house. With an encouraging show of confidence Herr Markov had led Fra Umberto toward this building and after some difficulty had succeeded in arousing the occupants, an old man and woman, who had stuck their heads out of the windows in some alarm until they learned the identity of the pilgrims and saw Fra Umberto and the hurdy-gurdy, when they had come down and made the visitors welcome. This house, it appeared, was one of the stopping places of the hurdy-gurdy man, the old farmer and his wife, his good friends, for whom in better times he played his whole repertoire in payment of board and lodging. Tanya's presence Herr Markov had glibly explained--his niece, bound to Leutkirch, to visit a sister who was about to be married, and so Tanya had found a bed of which she was in real need and had slept the sleep of utter weariness.