This time there was no alarm. She passed on down the stairs, swiftly, stealthily. Only the dainty rustle of her skirts betrayed her movements. This she gave no heed to. It was always with her. Therefore it possessed no significance. The bottom of the great oak staircase was reached. Her breathing was hurried, not with exertion, but as a result of the nervous tension. She was relying on a man's word—a Prussian's. She believed it honest, but—— A swift glance about the wide hall-place, and, for a moment, her nerves eased. The man was proving as good as his word. The doors into the various apartments were closed. The hall was empty.
Fresh courage flowed through her veins. She tiptoed across the polished marble, avoiding the loose rugs lest a slip might betray her. Then, in the centre of it, she stopped dead, her heart pounding out the alarm which had suddenly possessed her. Voices, men's voices, had reached her. And they came from immediately beyond a pair of heavy folding doors. She listened. The sound was slightly deadened. The doors made it impossible to hear the words.
Quite suddenly she realized that there was not a moment to lose. Without any further hesitation she flitted like a ghost, silently, towards the glass swing-doors which opened upon the entrance doors.
She thrust them apart. She passed down half a dozen wide, shallow steps. The outer doors yielded to her hand. Then she breathed the fresh, chill night air of the valley beyond. It was good, so good. It was the first breath of freedom. Deeply, deeply, she drank in the delight of it.
As the door swung gently to behind her, the folding doors of the apartment in which had sounded the men's voices were thrust apart. Von Salzinger and Johann Stryj stood framed in the archway.
"See, there is movement in the glass doors," observed Von Salzinger. "She has gone."
"I heard her," was the Secret Service man's cool reply.
Vita had paused only to put on the coat. Then, with skirts slightly raised, she sped on down the drive at something approaching a run. It was not easy in the pitch black of the night. But fear of pursuit lent her added power, and, surmounting every difficulty, she reached the iron gateway.
She breathed a great relief. The gates were standing open, and, away beyond, and to the right, she beheld the reflection of light upon the roadway.
She hurried towards it. An overwhelming flood of gratitude and thankfulness swept over her. Von Salzinger was proving his loyalty. Every detail was working out as he had promised. Liberty and Life. They were sweet enough. And even the price lost something of its horror under her new emotion.