“What is it you want?”
“Simply this. I will not leave as usual to-morrow afternoon. I will be in my room. At nine o’clock, there will be a knock at your door, and you will let in two men, with a hearty, ‘How do you do, I am glad to see you.’ Then I will ask you, Mrs. Flaherty, to go ahead of us up to the door, knock and give Mr. Max his pitcher of water. And then, Mrs. Flaherty, we will take care of him. Can you put it through?”
She looked him in the eye, and young Mr. Barker had not the shadow of a doubt but that he could count on her.
It is doubtful if Mrs. Flaherty could have ever told you what she did in the thirty-three or thirty-four hours between the time that Mr. Barker closed the door of the rectory kitchen and the hour when she admitted two stalwart strangers, with an Irish laugh and greeting that, if the windows above had been open, could certainly have been heard.
The windows were not open. If they had been, Katie might have heard an angry altercation going on. When she and the three men, fifteen minutes later, slipped up the stairs as noiselessly as so many cats, they heard it; and Katie knew the voice that was raised to meet the lower, cruel tones of Max. It was Otto Littman’s.
How well she knew it! For thirty years Katie had given her services at every dinner that the older Mrs. Littman gave. She had helped at every birthday party. She had known Otto from the time he was put in his mother’s arms. And her heart almost stood still. The hand that held the tray almost trembled as she realized that this was Otto—the son of her good friends, the only Germans in all Sabinsport she had never suspected—who was talking. She did not know what he said, but young Mr. Barker knew. He knew from what he heard that Otto had gotten some inkling of the horror devised, that he was protesting, threatening, declaring that whatever it cost him, even if it were his life, he would reveal the horrible thing. Either Max must call it off, or he, Otto, would stop it. And the even, calm tones of Max had said, “Too late, Otto. It’s you that will be silenced, not—”
At that moment young Mr. Barker gave a nod to Katie, who, knocking loudly, called out in the most natural and cheerful of tones—so natural and cheerful that he said to himself, “Isn’t she a wonder?”—“Here’s your water, Mr. Dalberg, and an apple.”
And Max Dalberg, intent only on keeping up an appearance, opened his door, and, as she stretched out her tray, there appeared in his face over her shoulders the muzzles of two vicious looking guns. At the same instant the door was thrown open and two powerful individuals had him by the arms, and cuffs on his hands and cuffs on his feet.
It had all been done so quickly and so quietly that neither Max nor Otto had uttered a sound. Nor did any one for a moment. Katie slipped down stairs. Young Mr. Barker in his level voice said, “Mr. Littman, I have heard your conversation, so have these gentlemen. We all understand German. It lets you out. You may go.”
Otto, looking him in the eye, said, “I am willing to take my punishment. You will find me at home when you want me. I have some letters which may help you; they are all at your disposal.”