Under Fire For Servia

by James Fiske

"Very well, sir," he said. "I'll go down to the stock-room and make the tally from last night's sheets."

"All right. Be off!" said Hallo, ungraciously.

And now one thing filled Dick's mind. How much had Hallo seen or heard while he was hidden in the closet of the boathouse? Did he know Stepan's real work, and the part he was playing in these stirring times? If he did, and had concealed his knowledge, it meant that he was laying a trap for Stepan, and it meant, too, that he was a good actor, for he had managed to conceal his knowledge admirably if he really possessed it.

Nothing that Dick knew of Hallo made it seem at all likely that he could dissemble well enough to keep from betraying his knowledge, if he had it. But Dick felt that it would not be safe to assume that, because his father had trusted Hallo to a great extent, and had supposed him to be an honorable business man, and there had certainly never been anything in his conduct to suggest that he would behave as he had done. And, moreover in New York he had seemed a plodding, stolid business man, and had never seemed to have it in him to play a part in the sort of intrigue that so evidently occupied much of his time in Semlin.

For a time the room was absolutely quiet. Dick wondered where Steve had gone. He was sure, somehow, that his chum was within reach, probably within hearing, waiting like himself for Hallo to do something. And Dick guessed, too, that Steve must have discovered by this time that the boathouse was empty, and thought that perhaps it was in search of him that Steve was here. That worried him, but for the time there was nothing to be done; he could only wait. The one preparation he could make for whatever might be coming was to get very close to the edge of his shelter, so that he could with little risk peep out from time to time. Each time that he looked out he saw Hallo, head bent low over the table, writing furiously.

Then came the break in the tension. Outside, echoing on the flags, came hurried footsteps. Dick listened eagerly. They turned in and came clattering up the steps. He dared not risk a peep just then to see who was coming. For the time, he decided, his ears must do the work of his eyes as well as their own share. He heard Hallo spring up, overturning his chair.

"You! Here?" cried Hallo, in a low voice. "Are you mad, man?"

"No. I had to come," said the newcomer. "It was impossible to send word, and you had to know—someone had to know! I suppose it was risky for me to come here, but they are all at work. All except Milikoff, and I don't know where he is."

"He led a band of assassins who tried to kill me earlier in the evening," growled Hallo. "But there are others, at least two others, here somewhere. They came in this evening, from the other side."

"From the other side?" said the stranger, in amazement. "But how could that be? The river front is guarded so that a strange fly could hardly cross from Belgrade to Semlin!"