"That would have sent Bud to jail and freed himself, wouldn't it?" asked Sydney.
"Yes. He must have been afraid of betrayal."
"No," cried the girl; "I'm sure he planned the whole thing to spite Melissa. I heard him threatening her one day. He said he'd make her sorry she ever married Bud."
"I think you're right, Sydney," said Bob. "He was working Bud all summer, I'm confident, with the purpose of betraying him at the end."
He sank a little into the pillow, and Sydney gave von Rittenheim a glance of dismissal.
"You're tired, dear," she said to Bob.
"A little. I think I'll take a nap. Oh, Baron, I almost forgot. I was in Asheville a few days ago,—Monday, Tuesday,—I don't know when," he went on, weakly, "and I met a man who said he thought he knew you. He's at the hotel,—a German."
"Did he tell you his name?"
"I can't remember. Something long. He said if you were Friedrich von Rittenheim from the Black Forest that he knew you well, and would you look him up? You will, won't you?"
"Yes, I will."