She waited for no assistance. She flung the door wide, and, in a
moment, she was enfolded in her father's embrace.
But she dared not yield to the joy of reunion. She freed herself, and
began to talk. Not a moment must be lost in telling him her story, the
story of all the dread and horror she had lived through. She knew she
dared not risk delay, or her last vestige of courage would vanish into
thin air.
She poured out the story of the machinations, in the toils of which
they had been caught. She told him the story of the jeopardy in which
he stood; of the power which had been transferred from Berlin to bring
about his final destruction. She told him of the death sentence which
had been passed upon her by the terrible Von Berger, and how, in the
last moment of her despair, succor had been proffered in the last
quarter from which it could have reasonably been expected. And then
came the story of her pledge.
To the long story the old man listened with the closest attention. He
gave no sign, he offered no interruption. At its conclusion Vita
paused, breathlessly awaiting the verdict in the man's luminous eyes.
She watched them. She searched them, seeking that faint spark which
might hold out the smallest hope. She was living for that alone--now.
The Prince stood for a moment, his eyes gazing past her at the sides of
the travel-stained car. Then one long thin hand went up to his
forehead, and his soft hat was thrust back on his head. The hand
pressed down upon his brows and moved across them, as though brushing
aside some sense of weariness. His eyes shifted their gaze towards the
man standing near the car. They took in the square, burly figure from
the crown of its hat to the soles of its feet. Then they came back to
Vita, and the smile in them suggested a final sympathetic decision
overriding the natural antagonistic feelings towards the man whom he
looked upon as his enemy.
"Where is he--Von Salzinger?" he demanded.
Vita caught her breath. It was the crisis.
"Here, father. He drove the car."
The Prince's eyes again sought the man. Then he spoke, and the tone of
his voice eased the woman's tension.
"You have done me a service, Herr von Salzinger. A service I could
hardly have looked for. It is to be paid for, I understand, and the
price is high. However, the risks you have taken, the sacrifices you
have made are doubtless great, from your point of view. Therefore I can
only--thank you. Come. The vessel should be lying off by this time.
What will you do with the car?"
Von Salzinger stepped forward. The night was dark, and it was
impossible to observe the expression of his face.
"The car can remain. It is--not mine."
The Prince inclined his head.
"Then we will go down to the cove. Vita!"
At the gentle tone of his voice the woman moved at once to his side.
Whatever his innermost thoughts and feeling's, he had conveyed to her
troubled heart the assurance of his perfect love and sympathy.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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