“Search every corner of this apartment,” he said. “Break open any door you find locked.”
With a long sigh Gretel opened her eyes. Some one was bending over her, holding strong smelling-salts to her nose, and some one else was trying to force something between her lips. She felt utterly bewildered, and for the first moment had no idea where she was, or what had happened. But as she gazed up into the two anxious faces, remembrance came back with a rush.
“Percy,” she whispered, “is it really you? And—why, it’s Fritz Lippheim, too. Oh, Percy dear, have you come to take me home?”
“Yes, dear,” her brother answered gently. “Don’t try to talk. Just swallow this; it will make you feel better. You are quite safe, and Mr. Lippheim and I have come to take you home to Barbara.”
Gretel swallowed the contents of the spoon Percy was holding to her lips, and though it made her cough and choke, it seemed to revive her, and when she spoke next, her voice was stronger.
“I’m loyal. I’m an American. I didn’t run away on purpose. Oh, Percy, you don’t believe it, even if the paper did say that dreadful thing?”
“Of course, I don’t believe it, dear. You have been a brave loyal little American. We know everything, and I am prouder of you than if you had won the croix de guerre. But you mustn’t talk any more just now. You are not very strong, you know. Lie still till you feel a little better, and then we will go home.”
Gretel gave a great gasp of joy and relief, and then her eyes closed, and she slipped away again into unconsciousness.