The Captain took his kicking in silence, but in his glance was murder, as he turned once and faced me ere he left the room.
“Well, Valentine,” I asked, when he was safely out of hearing, and when she had raised herself from her knees laughing. “And what now?”
“The whole affair is now plain sailing. To-morrow you will take the car to Liège, and there await me outside the Cathedral at midnight on the following night. You will easily find the place. Wait until two o’clock, and if I am not there go on to Cologne, and put up at the Hôtel du Nord.”
“Without baggage?”
“Without baggage. Don’t trouble about anything. Simply go there and wait.”
At midday on the following day the pretty Valentine dressed herself carefully, and went out. Then, an hour later, pretending that I was only going for a short run, I mounted into the car and set out for Liège, wondering what was now to happen.
Next day I idled away, and at a quarter to twelve that night, after a run around the town, I pulled up in the shadow before the Cathedral and stopped the engines. The old square was quite quiet, for the good Liègois retire early, and the only sound was the musical carillon of the bells.
In impatience I waited. The silent night was clear, bright, and frosty, with a myriad shining stars above. Time after time the great clock above me chimed the quarters, until just before two o’clock there came a dark female figure round the corner, walking quickly. In an instant I recognised Valentine, who was dressed in a long travelling coat with fur collar, and a sealskin toque. She was carrying something beneath her coat.
“Quick!” she said breathlessly. “Let us get away. Get ready. Count Bindo is following me!” And ere I could start the engines, my employer, in a long dark overcoat and felt hat, hurriedly approached us, saying—