He kissed her again and again, and for a long moment they clasped each other in silence, their lips together, questioning, replying in broken syllables. To the woman, nothing else mattered. If death came now, she knew that it would be sweet. And it was Renwick who found his reason first. Her hands still in his, he led her to the window, where he scanned the garden anxiously. But there was still no sign of anything suspicious, nor, in the house, any sound. But Renwick now questioned her quickly.
"You sent me a note in Vienna?"
"Yes. A warning. I was afraid. I urged you to return to England, but I hoped——"
"Ah! The note—a forgery!"
"What do you mean?"
"Your note told me to come to Sarajevo—to the Hotel Europa, where you would communicate with me."
"A forgery! Goritz! Now I understand. He said that you would follow."
"Goritz—the limousine chap! He is here?"
"I don't know. I haven't seen him since this morning. Hugh! He has laid plans to kill you—a trap——"
"We shall outwit him——"