"No?"
"My father is awaiting you. There is Dorby."
They walked on in silence. The old man moved with surprising vigor. He was thinking rapidly. The new situation involved a readjustment of plans. He was seeking solution with a fertility of imagination which might have astonished the Englishman had he known.
Ruxton went on.
"Our works are under protection from our naval authority. They should be safe. My father thinks the shelter of our home should serve for the present."
Von Hertzwohl seemed to pass the offer by, dwelling only upon the safety of the works.
"That is good, the works protected," he said abruptly, his luminous eyes shining. "You are clever. You take no chance. And the work? It goes on? Good! Ah! I must see it all." He rubbed his hands. "There is no hitch? Nothing? The vessels grow—grow while you look. Ah, yes, I know you British. There will be no more submarine danger; no more massacre of women and children at sea. It gives me the greatest joy."
The old man's enthusiasm was beyond all thought of self. It was so simple, so intense. It was the enthusiasm of a child for his new toy, and Ruxton marvelled at the odd mixture which went to make up his strange character.
"The completion of the work is as inevitable as that your Government means to—hunt you down."
Ruxton thought to impress the Pole with the precariousness of his position. But the man brushed it aside.