Who Goes There!

"Circumstances alter conditions and absolve promises however solemn. Common sense decides where honour is involved."

She flushed brightly: "There I am more English than German, Kurt. A promise is a promise, and not" – she looked at him musingly – "not what the British press reproaches us for calling a 'scrap of paper.'"

He said grimly: "When a supposed friend suddenly aims a blow at you, strike first if you can and discuss the ethics afterward. We tore up that 'scrap of paper' before the dirty fingers of England could clutch it, that's all."

"And lost the world's sympathy. Oh, Kurt!"

"But we retained the respect born of fear. We invaded Belgium before the others could do it, that's all… I do not care to discuss the matter. The truth is known to us and that is sufficient."

"It is not sufficient if you desire the sympathy of the world."

Von Reiter's eyes became paler and fixed and he worried the points of his up-brushed mustache with powerful, lean fingers.

"Make no mistake," he said musingly. "America's turn will come… For all the insolence she has offered in our time of need, surely, surely the time is coming for our reckoning with her. We have not forgotten von Diederichs; we shall not forget this crisis. All shall be arranged with method and order when we are ready… Where is that American – or Belgian, as he seems to think his honour of the moment requires him to be?"

"Mr. Guild?"

"Yes."

"He did not come here when the others arrived from Lesse Forest."

"He's a fire-brand," said von Reiter coldly. "Our system of information informed us sufficiently. I should have had him extinguished at Yslemont had he not been the one man who stood any chance of getting into England and bringing you back."

"Also you trusted him," she said quietly.

"Yes, I did. He is a Gueldres of Yvoir. The Gueldres have never lied. When he said he'd return, that settled the matter." Von Reiter's eyes had an absent look as though following a detached idea, and his features became expressionless.

"When the war ends," he said, "and if that man ever comes to Berlin, it would afford me gratification to offer him my hand – or my card. Either extreme would suit me; he is not a man to leave one indifferent; it is either friendship or enmity – the hand or the card. And I do not know yet which I might prefer."

He looked up and around at her, his sombre, blond features hardening:

"I need not ask you whether his attitude toward you was respectful."

"It was – respectful."

"That question, of course, answered itself. The record of that family is part of Belgian history… Do you know where he went after he kept his word and delivered you here?"

"He went to Lesse."

"And then?"

She remained silent.

"Do you know?" he repeated.

"Yes."

"Is there any reason why you should not tell me?"

She was mute.

"Karen," he said gently, "is there any reason why your confidence should be withheld from me? I have come here tonight for my answer. I have only an hour to stay. It was a long way to come for one single word from a young girl. But I would have travelled the world over for that word from you. Will you give me my answer, Karen?"

She looked up, dumb, her mouth tremulous, unable to control her emotion for the moment. His keen eyes searched hers; he waited, thin lips compressed.

"Kurt – I – do not love you," she whispered.

He took it in silence; not a muscle quivered.

"Will you marry me, Karen, and try?"

"I can not."

"Is it your profession? Is it your desire for liberty?"

"No."

"Is it —another man?"

As he spoke he saw in her eyes that he had guessed the truth.

For a full minute he sat there like a statue, one arm extended on the table, the bony hand clenched. After a long while he lifted his head and turned upon her a visage terrifying in its pallour and rigidity.

"Is it – Guild?" he asked with an effort.

"Kurt!"

"Is it?" The heavy colour suddenly flooded his face; lie drew a deep, sharp breath. "Is he still in this neighbourhood? Is he, perhaps, coming here to see you? Is that why you are awake and dressed at this hour?"

"Kurt, you have no right – "

"I am at liberty to ask you these questions – "

"No! It is an impertinence – "

"Do you regard it that way? Karen! Is this what has happened – " He choked, turned his congested face, glaring about him at the four walls of the room. Suddenly some instinct of suspicion seized him, possessed him, brought him to his feet in one bound. And instantly the girl rose, too.

"I know why you are awake and dressed!" he said harshly. "You are expecting him! Are you?"

She could not answer; her breath had deserted her, and she merely stood there, one hand resting on the table, her frightened eyes fixed on the man confronting her.

But at his first step forward she sprang in front of him. She strove to speak; the infernal blaze in his eyes terrified her.

"Is this what you have done to me?" he said; and moved to pass her, but she caught his arm, and he halted.

CHAPTER XXIV

A PERSONAL AFFAIR