At last I felt that I was within measurable distance of the end of my quest. But between me and my goal was interposed that unsurmountable four-barred obstacle, those enigmatical notes of music.
I had identified the peaks, but what did they signify? What bearing had they on the hiding place of the treasure? I felt utterly nonplussed and, for the first time, discouraged.
"What does it mean?" asked Marjorie at my elbow. "What has the Lorelei to do with the treasure?"
I laughed rather bitterly.
"If I were a musician," I answered, "I should probably be able to tell you. As I am not...."
"Please don't be mysterious," the girl bade me. "Tell me what you mean."
I told her of the four bars of music.
"They're part of some German tune or other," I told her. "It's vaguely familiar to me, but I'm blessed if I can put any words to it. And I take it that the words are the thing!"
"Can you hum the melody over to me?" asked Marjorie.
Singing is not my forte. A combination of bashfulness and a cigarette-smoker's throat produce from my larynx when I attempt to sing sounds which I have always felt must be acutely distressing to my hearers. But Marjorie listening gravely with her head on one side, made me repeat my performance.