"Was that a serious matter, Mr. McKay?"
He studied her with narrowing brown eyes.
"Oh, no," he said. "I had nothing of value in my room at the Astor except a few necessaries in a steamer-trunk…. Thank you so much for all your kindness to me, Miss Erith," he added, as though relieving her of the initiative in terminating the interview.
As he spoke he caught her eye and divined somehow that she did not mean to go just yet. Instantly he was on his guard, lying there with partly closed lids, awaiting events, though not yet really suspicious. But at her next question he rose abruptly, supported on one elbow, his whole frame tense and alert under the bed-coverings as though gathered for a spring.
"What did you say?" he demanded.
"I asked you how long ago you escaped from Holzminden camp?" repeated the girl, very pale.
"Who told you I had ever been there?—wherever that is!"
"You were there as a prisoner, were you not, Mr. McKay?"
"Where is that place?"
"In Germany on the River Weser. You were detained there under pretence of being an Englishman before we declared war on Germany. After we declared war they held you as a matter of course."