"Thanks, no. I know the mountain and the neck of woods around the summit. I shall travel no path to-night."
There was a silence: Miss Erith's lovely face was turned tranquilly toward the flank of Mount Terrible. Both men looked sideways at her as though thinking the same thing.
Finally Recklow said: "In the event of trouble—you understand—it means merely detention and internment while you are on Swiss territory. But—if you leave it and go north—" He did not say any more.
McKay's sombre eyes rested on his in grim comprehension of all that Recklow had left unsaid. Swift and savage as would be the fate of a man caught within German frontiers on any such business as he was now engaged in, the fate of a woman would be unspeakable.
If Miss Erith noticed or understood the silence between these two men she gave no sign of comprehension.
Soft, lovely lights lay across the mountains; higher rocks were still ruddy in the rays of the declining sun.
"Do the Boche planes ever come over?" asked McKay.
"They did in 1914. But the Swiss stopped it."
"Our planes—do they violate the frontier at all?"
"They never have, so far. Tell me, McKay, how about your maps?"