"Of the German Imperial Secret Service," he said quickly.
Marishka sank back into her seat breathless with apprehension, the warnings of the hated Herr Windt dinning in her ears.
"Then you sent——" She fingered the scribbled note which had not left her fingers.
"I regret, Countess, that the situation made deception necessary. One of my men in the tree above the chimney. My orders were urgent."
Marishka glanced about the machine helplessly, her thoughts, in spite of herself, recurring to Hugh Renwick, who must before long discover her absence and guess its cause. But there seemed no chance of escape. To open the door and leap forth into the road at this speed was only courting injury, and the calm appearance of Captain Leo Goritz seemed only the mask for a resoluteness of purpose with which she could not dare to cope. To cry out seemed equally futile for the road was deserted except for a few market wagons, the occupants of which were country louts who only stared dully as they passed. But in a flash the inspiration came to her. Germany! Germany could help her carry out her purpose to warn the Duchess before she reached Sarajevo. She glanced at her companion and found that his brown eyes had turned as though by prescience to hers.
"Captain Goritz," she stammered, "I—I seem to be in your power. Whatever your authority for this—this restraint of my liberty—I submit myself——"
He showed his fine teeth in a smile.
"I regret that the Countess Strahni should have been put to this inconvenience."
She made a motion of deprecation.
"I beg that you will spare yourself meaningless civilities. I do not know the meaning of this outrage."