The train was rumbling on into the darkness again and Rowland for the moment could hear no more. Indeed his ears were filled with one phrase and he could hear no other. "I know everything--I know everything," even the car wheels announced it, the exhaust of the locomotive as the train went up grade. If Von Stromberg was omniscient, he was surely aware of Rowland perched on the car-top just above his head, listening at the ventilator. Something of the terror that Zoya had expressed for the old man's devilish ingenuity came over Rowland at this moment. He had seen something of Von Stromberg's power of will. He wasn't frightened in the physical sense, for fear of that kind clogs the brain, the heart, the muscles,--but the fact of Zoya's presence and the old demon's knowledge of it had given Rowland a new sense of Von Stromberg's skill in divination which anticipated what it could not guess, and guessed what it could not anticipate. In all reason Von Stromberg could have no possible means of knowing that Rowland had "jumped" the train at Friedenheim and was now crouched upon the top listening to this very interesting conversation. Back there in the Schwaiger Strasse Rowland had heard Zoya Rochal swear to the old man that he, Rowland, had escaped from Munich, but Rowland would have felt much more comfortable if Zoya hadn't come. What did her presence mean? Had she found out from Frau Nisko that Rowland had inquired as to the trains for Lindau, and, determined to repair the dreadful damage she had done, had decided to follow Tanya and Markov to the Bodensee and help them in the danger of Von Stromberg's pursuit? Or had she come seeking Rowland, trying in helping him escape to atone for her treachery? Or had her mission some less pleasant purpose?
Whatever her intentions whether good or bad, the fact of her presence alone with Von Stromberg in the railway carriage below him was in itself a threat against Rowland's security. For Zoya knew that he planned to be on this train or she wouldn't have come. And what might not the clever brain of the great Councilor succeed in wheedling from this woman of uncertain quality by persuasion, bribery, or threat during the long night journey that lay before them? Rowland lay flat upon the cartop, his ear near the ventilator, but could hear nothing except the low murmur of their voices. Once he heard Von Stromberg's laugh and then a little later Zoya's. They seemed to be getting on famously for with the odor of the masculine cigar came that of a Russian cigarette. Rowland did not trust her.... Beneath the smooth veneer that she had for years so carefully applied, she had shown him tonight the rough grain beneath--the Tartar grain--and he had scratched it....
Perhaps she would give him away to the old man who would have the train searched. At the next stop, Rowland had half expected it, but when nothing happened he breathed more freely. At least so far she had held her tongue. There was some good in the woman--some loyalty left--loyalty for Rowland at least that had rightfully belonged to Herr Markov, whom she had betrayed. Love--whatever it was that she had for Rowland--whatever it was ... had kept her lips sealed.
As the hours passed and nothing happened, Rowland gained confidence in his luck. Barring new treachery in Zoya Rochal, or some miraculous guess-work from his enemy below, or the searching daylight, he would come through safely to Tanya. And if he didn't get through safely to Tanya, he wouldn't be the only one who went down. It was going to be a "peach" of a "scrap" while it lasted--a "peach," and the old pelican would be one of those to keep him company in the last adventure.
But wasn't there something better than killing a lot of railroad guards (old gentlemen, with white whiskers for the most part with families of grandchildren at home) to say nothing of getting killed one's self? That wouldn't help America much, or France, or even the Society of Nemi. What he had come into Germany for was to save Tanya from Hochwald and bring the money back into Switzerland. He was on his way; and unless some unforeseen disaster had occurred--unless Frau Nisko had failed him, the money and Tanya were already nearing Lindau. With success so near, he couldn't lose--he mustn't.
And then the train stopped at Kaufbeuren. It had been in motion for more than two hours, but the sound of voices was still to be heard in the carriage below. Rowland tried to make out what they said.
"My prisoner, Madame.... Well to submit with a good grace.... I mistrust your generosity ... broken faith.... Manage this affair alone ... pay you well if I succeed. But at Lindau ... the military prison for a few days. I will give especial instructions as to your comfort."
"Not prison, Excellency----"
"For a few days only.... I am sorry. I can't forget your help in this affair. A glass of wine--never travel without it. The ventilator? Permit me."
"Excellency, I can reach quite easily from the seat." Her voice came suddenly very near Rowland's ear. He heard her fingers on the mechanism and as he peered in through the hole in the roof a white object appeared within touch of his fingers--a tiny scrap of paper! He thrust his fingers in carefully and seized it. A message from Zoya before Von Stromberg's very eyes.... But he couldn't understand how....