"Really. An Alpinist? A rendezvous in Delle, eh? And who were your two friends?"
"Boys from my canton."
"Is that so?"
Her breast still rose and fell unevenly; she turned her pretty, insolent eyes on him:
"After all, what business is it of yours? Who are you, anyway? If you are French you can do nothing. If you are Swiss take me to the nearest poste."
"Who were those two men?" repeated Recklow.
"Ask them."
"No; I think I'll take you back to France."
The girl became silent at that but her attitude defied him. Even when he snapped an automatic handcuff over one wrist she smiled incredulously.
But the jeering expression on her dark, handsome features altered when they approached the Swiss wire. And when Recklow produced a pair of heavy wire-cutters all defiance died out in her face.