"No. But I can find her."
It entered Renwick's head at the moment to tell the fellow of the note in his pocket, but the events of the night had made him careful.
"Who are you?" he asked again.
But the man evaded.
"I beg that you will eat, Herr Renwick," he said coolly. "We have no time to spare."
And so at last, when Herr Linke ponderously helped himself and the Hungarian chauffeur from the dish, Renwick followed his lead and ate.
In less than half an hour they were again upon their way, reaching the hills above the Bosnian capital just before nightfall. Here, for some reason, the machine again halted with a loud explosion of back-fire and a prodigious amount of smoke. The chauffeur got out, looked into the hood and straightened, gesticulating wildly. Herr Linke followed, and a conversation ensued, the import of which was lost upon the Englishman. But when it was finished, Linke turned to Renwick and explained that the machinery was injured beyond repair and that the car could go no further. Two Bosnian policemen who had appeared in the road before them, now rode up and made inquiries. Renwick shrugged and was about to walk away with the intention of finishing his journey afoot, when the chauffeur came forward and caught him by the arm, shouting something in an excited and angry voice, appealing to the men on horseback and pointing alternately at the Englishman and at the injured machine. The Bosnians got down and listened while one of them, who seemed to understand, addressed Renwick in German.
"This man says that you engaged to pay for any breakages to the machine, and that you have not paid him all that you owe."
"He lies. I paid him at Ujvidek. Herr Linke here will bear me witness——" As he turned to address his traveling companion, he paused in amazement, for without a word, or a sound, Herr Linke had suddenly vanished into space.
But the Hungarian was screaming again, and what he said must have impressed the policeman who had spoken to him, for he turned to Renwick, scratching his head dubiously, and suggested that the matter be further discussed before a magistrate in the city below. Renwick agreed, gave the policeman his card with the word that he would find him at the Europa Hotel and leaving his suitcase in the car as security for his appearance when summoned went hurriedly down the hills toward the city. The colloquy had occupied some moments, but when Renwick came to a straight reach of road which led toward the tobacco factory buildings he was surprised to find that Herr Linke was nowhere in sight. The man was an enigma, a curious mixture of desperado and buffoon, but his sudden disappearance without a word of thanks, apology or explanation, gave Renwick something to puzzle over as he made his way to the bridge. Its possible significance escaped him until he had reached the river, when, a thought suddenly occurring to him, he put his hand into the breast pocket of his coat, feeling for the note from Marishka. It was gone! He hunted, feverishly, one pocket after another, and was on the point of going back for a search of the machine when the truth suddenly dawned. Herr Linke had taken it from him, last night when he slept—had drugged him that he might get it without commotion! In an illuminating flash he remembered the sharp look in the man's eyes yesterday morning in the train from Budapest when Renwick had taken the note from his pocket. Linke! He hurried his footsteps, bewailing his own simplicity and wondering what this new phase of Herr Linke's activities might signify. Renwick had assumed that the Austrian was an agent of Herr Windt, who unable to follow him on to Sarajevo had guessed the train upon which he had left and had sent this man up from Budapest to get into his carriage. But his most recent accomplishment seemed to leave this presumption open to doubt. If Herr Linke had stolen the letter in the belief that it contained secret information which would be of value to Austrian secret service officials, the mere reading of it would have convinced him of its innocence in so far as Marishka was concerned. And if a forgery! Perhaps something in the message which Renwick had overlooked would put him upon the track of the fellow of the green limousine. He went along the river bank from the bridge toward the hotel, the location of which was familiar to him, hurrying his pace. At any rate the note was gone and with it the mysterious Linke, facts which clearly indicated one purpose. Herr Linke was bent upon intercepting any message which might come to the Hotel Europa for the Englishman. And given that to be his purpose, what was his intention with regard to the Countess Strahni?