And once more that smile with the odd glint in it passed over her stern face. But John in the thickening dusk could not see it, although her low earnest voice carried conviction.
"Tell her for me, will you, Suzanne," he said, "that I think I can take her from the castle of Zillenstein. Tell her, too, that I am in little danger in my peasant's clothes. I have been face to face with the prince himself and he has shown no sign of recognition, nor has Count Kratzek who was my prisoner once. Tell her that I will not go. Tell her that my heart is light because she fears for my safety and, O Suzanne, tell her that I will watch over her the best I can, until all of us escape from this hateful castle."
"It is much to tell. How can I remember it alt?"
"Then tell her all you remember."
"That I promise. And now it's time for me to go back. We cannot risk too much."
She turned away, but John had another question to ask her. His heart smote him that he had not thought of Picard.
"Your father, Suzanne?" he said. "I have not heard of him. Is he here?"
"They left him a prisoner at Munich. Doubtless he will escape and he, too, will reach Zillenstein."
"Tell Mademoiselle Julie that her brother did not come to the appointed meeting at Chastel, because he was wounded. Not badly. Don't be alarmed, Suzanne. He'll be as well as ever soon."
"Then he, too, will come to Zillenstein. You are not the only one who seeks, Monsieur Scott."