The big gate creaked open, and for a moment the girl and the grim-faced German spoke in low tones. He seemed expostulating, but she appeared to brush his words aside as being of no consequence. Suddenly their talk ceased. Campe appeared, a cap upon his head, a stick in his hand.
“Frederic!” Miss Hohenlo was amazed. “He, too, is going!”
The gate swung to behind them, and the sergeant-major shot the bolts.
“The last night those two were out there among the hills,” said Scanlon, “he was slashed—and maybe with the sword which she had taken out of this room.”
At this a cry came from the woman.
“Look!” she gasped, and pointed toward the narrow strip of tapestry between the windows, the place where the great sword usually hung.
“By Jingo!” cried Scanlon. “It’s gone!”
CHAPTER XVII
SPEAKS OF A HARP WHICH WAS PLAYED IN SILENCE
THERE hung the long strip of tapestry between the two windows, but the huge naked blade which usually rested against it was missing. For a moment or two Scanlon could not take his eyes from the spot; he was fascinated by the possibilities of the discovery.
“Where can it be?” asked Miss Hohenlo. “What could it have been taken for?”