“I listened to what he was saying, Mr. Trent.”
“I hoped you would,” he answered, “I may need a witness.”
“Don’t you think it would be wiser to wait and do what he wants you to?”
“Perhaps,” retorted her employer, “but I don’t see how he can find me out in Kennebago. Who knows about it but you and Weems? You haven’t mentioned it to any one and Weems isn’t anxious his financial condition should be suspected. And, beside that, he’s in Los Angeles. I shall pay the rent of this flat up till Christmas and tell the agent I may be back for a few days any time. I must leave the furniture.” He looked about him regretfully. “That could be traced easily enough.” He decided to take the Benares lamp, Stuart’s picture of Washington, the vase of King Senwosri, and one or two things of price. They could go in his trunks.
“But, sir,” Mrs. Kinney persisted timidly, “if he finds you out it may go badly with you and it wouldn’t be difficult to get what he wants.”
“Perhaps not,” he said gravely, “but if I were to do one such thing for them they would use me continually.”
“But he only wants his dye formulae,” she reminded him.
“Don’t you understand,” he said, “that he is a German spy and wants me to betray my country?”
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE GERMAN SPY MERCHANT
ANTHONY TRENT rode into Kennebago by the corduroy road from Rangely. It took longer but it seemed a less likely way of being seen than if he had taken the train to Kennebago. It had been his intention before Kaufmann had come across his horizon to make the call upon Mr. Westward his first action. As he stood at the window of the big dining room he could see the genial angler, and John his guide, rowing over to the edge of a favorite pool. There he sat in the stern, rod in hand, no doubt thinking of the chapter he was writing on the “Psychology of Trout.”