Who Goes There!

"Kervyn?"

"Yes."

"Will you come back to Quellenheim, too?"

"I can't do that, dearest."

"May I ask you what you are going to do?"

"Dear, I don't know yet. I haven't formed any plan at all."

"Is it not very dangerous for you to remain here?"

"No, I think not… That is – I shall see how this matter threatens to develop."

He felt her hand lightly on his arm, looked around, halted. She came to him, laid her cheek against his breast in silence.

"You must not be afraid for me, Karen."

"I shall try – to remember."

He lifted one of her hands. It was cold and delicately fragrant. He kissed it.

"The Bank at Diekirch is my address. I shall try to write you. I shall come back some day and marry you. Do you love me, Karen?"

"With all – all my – soul."

"And you will marry me?"

"Yes, Kervyn."

She looked up, her eyes brilliant as wet stars. And very gently, almost timidly, they exchanged their betrothal, lip to lip.

He drew her to him a little closer – held her so a moment, scarcely in contact. Then they turned again to the grassy ride and moved swiftly forward toward the drive.

Every light in the house had been lit, apparently. The automobile stood before the door; three forest waggons with their big fine horses were in line behind; and servants were loading them with American trunks, suitcases, and luggage of every description, under the active direction of Darrel.

When he saw Guild and Karen coming he called out: "Your luggage is packed! Mrs. Courland and Valentine and their two maids are filling hampers with bed linen and knick-knacks. You've heard what's happened, of course?"

"Yes," said Guild. "I don't think you had better waste any more time packing. Let the ladies get into the car and start. Michaud and I can gather up what's left of their effects and send it after them in the last waggon! Where is Michaud?"

"Talking to Mrs. Courland inside. Here he comes, now! – "

The white-haired forester came out behind Mrs. Courland, caught sight of Guild, and made a slight gesture expressing infinite despair.

"I know," said Guild. "I'll talk it over with you after the household leaves." And to Mrs. Courland, who appeared calm but a trifle dazed: "Miss Girard offers you Quellenheim for the night, and for longer if you desire."

"Please," said Karen, coming forward – "it would be very gracious of you to come. Will you, Mrs. Courland?"

"Thank you, dear – yes – it will be the greatest convenience. I don't know when we should arrive at Luxembourg if we started now." She took one of Karen's hands and turned to Guild: "What a terrible thing our people have done! Michaud came to tell us; Harry started everybody packing up. You will come with us, of course?"

"Perhaps later, thank you." He turned to Valentine who was coming out in hat and coat, followed by a pale-faced maid carrying both arms full of wraps.

"Please don't lose any time," said Guild, selecting wraps for Mrs. Courland and for Karen. "Are your servants ready?"

"Nobody is ready," said Valentine, "but everybody is here or in the hall, I think."

Guild gave his arm to Mrs. Courland and helped that active young matron spring into the touring car. Karen went next. Valentine and two maids followed; Guild slammed the door.

"All right!" he said curtly to the chauffeur, then, hat in hand, he said gaily: "Au revoir! A happy reunion for us all!"

As the car rolled out into the shining path of its own lamps Karen turned and looked back at him. And as long as he could see her she was looking back.

After the car followed two of the forest waggons, one filled with servants, the other loaded with luggage. Darrel came out of the house with the last odds and ends of property belonging to the Courlands and flung it pell-mell into the last waggon.

"Come on," he said briskly to Guild.

"No, go ahead, Harry. I'm stopping to talk with Michaud – "

"Well how are you going to get to Quellenheim?"

"When I'm ready to go I'll get there."

"You're not coming?"

"Not now."

Darrel came over and said, dropping his voice: "After this murdering business it won't do for you to be caught here."

"I don't mean to be caught here. Don't worry – and get a move on!"

"What are you intending to do?"

"I don't know yet. Come, Harry, start that waggon!"

Darrel shrugged his shoulders, mounted the seat beside the driver, and the forest waggon rolled away into the darkness.

Guild was still looking after it, listening to Michaud's report of the sniping affair near Trois Fontaines, when he saw the figure of a man walking back from the direction the waggon had taken. The man walked with a visible limp.

"You idiot!" said Guild sharply as Darrel strolled up, his features blandly defiant.

"Go on with what you were saying to Michaud," insisted Darrel, unruffled by his reception.

"Come, Harry – this is downright damn foolishness. If you've let the waggon go on, you'll have to foot it to Quellenheim. You can't stay here!"

"Why?"

"Because, you infernal butter-in, you'll get mixed up in a particularly nasty mess. And it doesn't concern Yankees, this mess we're in, Michaud and I."